Chapter 5
DECLAN
Bang-bang-bang.
My eyes snapped open, grogginess encompassing me like a gray wave of mist. The sleeping pills always sank me deep into dreamless sleep, but it was always a bitch to wake up if I didn’t get at least a full seven hours.
Another rapid knock came at the door, and I rolled over, sighing and fumbling for my phone.
A third knock came, this time a series of six or seven, in quick succession, almost panicked.
“I swear to fucking God, if that damn vampire is back, I’ll stake his pasty, pale ass,” I hissed as I shoved my feet in a pair of flip-flops I kept next to the bed.
Not bothering to put on anything else, I stumbled to the front door in nothing but my boxers.
“Retired for three years, and this shit never ends,” I mumbled.
It was all because of the stupid succubus case years prior. I’d done one thing that really put me on the map, and from that moment on, everybody and their brother thought I could help them. Shifters, sphinxes, witches, and this asshole vampire.
Unlocking the door, I swung it inward fast, speaking before I even had it open.
“Sebastian, I told you there was no fucking way I’d—”
I froze, even more confused now than I’d been a few moments ago when I’d been dragged kicking and screaming out of sleep.
There was no vampire standing on my front step.
Instead, a woman stood there. A beautiful woman, roughly twenty-five, with curly brown hair that hung to her shoulders but was a mess, as if she hadn’t brushed it in days.
A few leaves and twigs were actually stuck in the curls.
She stared at me with hopeful yet terrified eyes.
The first thing I thought, once the initial surprise wore off, was how beautiful she was.
“Uh…can I help you?” I said, wiping sleep from my eyes.
“I n-n-need help,” she said, the words coming out in a shivering sob. “Please. I d-d-didn’t know where else to go.”
Fully awake now, I tried to think about what was happening.
I wasn’t famous by any means, but my name was well-known in certain circles—I’d helped get plenty of creatures and beings locked away.
Any one of them might have family or friends looking to take my ass out.
Could one of them have sent this little honeypot out here to seduce me or trick me?
I could picture this chick sliding a blade into my ribs the moment I let my guard down.
“You know it’s four in the morning, right?
” I said, moving to the side, and putting my hand on a gun I kept near the door, hidden from sight even from the woman standing at my door.
The pistol, specially enchanted and loaded with silver bullets, would take out about seventy percent of the people I dealt with, and the other thirty percent would have a bad time trying to dig the slug out of their chest or gut. That would give me time to run.
I glanced out the door, looking up the street, then back down. It didn’t look like there was anyone around, but you couldn’t always trust that. Cloaking spells, creatures with camouflage, and even shapeshifting creatures could hide in plain sight.
“You aren’t with a vampire named Sebastian, are you?” I said, looking at her again.
“What?” She frowned at me, her brows knitting together. “No. I don’t know any vampires. I’m, uh, I’m a w-w-witch.”
She was telling the truth. I could sense it. Something in her eyes, plus my special expertise whispering at the back of my head. Trusting my intuition, I relaxed a bit.
A witch. Magic users. I didn’t dislike them, though some of their kind acted a little too pompous for my taste. This woman was terrified, and for some reason, she’d thought I was the best place to turn instead of a coven somewhere. Strange.
Before I could ask another question, she tore open the zipper on the crossbody bag she wore and yanked out a small paperback book I knew well.
I cursed under my breath.
“This said you were the best mystic private detective in the whole Midwest, possibly even the whole country,” she said, holding it out to me like some sort of magical offering. Tears shone in her eyes. “This is you, isn’t it? Declan McClintoc?”
I heaved a sigh and shoved the pistol into a drawer, all while keeping my eyes on the woman.
“I can p-p-pay you,” she said. “I’ve got some inheritance money stashed aw-w-w-ay in an account.”
“Listen, lady, I’m sure you’ve had a rough night, but it’s late, and I’m retired. Maybe go find someone else, okay? You have a good one. Go get someplace warm, all right?”
With that, I slammed the door and spun the lock.
A tiny part of me felt bad for it—the woman was obviously in distress—but what was I supposed to do?
I wasn’t in that kind of work anymore, and if I knew one thing, it was trouble, and that woman reeked of it.
I wanted no part of whatever she was running from.
Turning from the door, I headed back toward my bedroom.
I’d just gotten to the hallway when the sound of exploding wood and metal erupted from behind me.
My front door flew by, slamming into the drywall beside me and sending up a plume of dust and debris.
On instinct, I hit the ground and rolled behind my couch, rising up on my knees to peer over the top.
The woman, still looking harried, but now a bit irritated too, took a step into my house.
Well, that definitely rules out her being a vampire witch. I had not invited her in.
“How the fuck did you do that?” I shouted. “The entire exterior of my house is protected from magical attack.”
She glanced over at me as she shoved the book back into her bag. “I didn’t use magic. I kicked it in.”
“The fuck?” I cried, then glanced over at the table where I’d left the gun. Idiot.
“I’m a wolf shifter too,” she said, and shrugged a single shoulder.
“A witch shifter?” I said, standing slowly. My fear was fading the longer she stood. If she’d come here to kill me, she would have already shifted and attacked, blasting me with magic and ripping my throat out to make sure I was dead.
“Yeah,” she said, glancing at the busted door and broken drywall. “Uh…sorry about that. You sort of pissed me off.”
“I can see that,” I said, rounding the couch warily, keeping the furniture between us. “Sorry. I guess.”
“I need your help, Mr. McClintoc. I’ve been—”
“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “No thanks. I told you before. I’m retired. I’m not coming out of retirement to help a trespassing witch shifter. Okay? I’ll give you one minute to get your ass out of here before I call the cops.”
Backing down the hallway, I stepped through the door that separated my living area from the office where we stood.
The woman watched me go, not with anger or sadness, but more a strange curiosity.
I shut and locked the door, but before I’d gone a foot, a metallic snap sounded behind me and the door swung inward.
The intruder stood there, holding the other side of the knob where she’d broken it off with her bare hand.
“Jesus!” I pointed at the knob. “You’re racking up a hell of a repair bill.”
“Listen,” she said, and tossed the knob away, where it thudded to the carpet. “My name is Veronica Paolo. I’m a student at the Freedman Academy—”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving a hand at her. “I’ve heard of it. Ball Taser Freedman, or whatever his name is, runs it.”
Her face twisted and she put a hand to her chest. “His name was Balthazar. He’s dead.”
“Great,” I grunted. “I’ll send flowers. Now, can you get the hell out? I’d like to get some sleep.”
Ignoring me, Veronica continued on as if I hadn’t said anything. “I’ve been framed for his murder. They all think I killed him.”
“I hate that for you. I really do, but once again, not my fucking problem,” I said, backing down the hall, hoping to get to my cell phone.
I needed to call someone to come get this crazy lady out of my house.
I had contacts on the police force that were of a supernatural persuasion and could handle this.
“I read on the back of this book about how you helped solve this big murder case. I skimmed a few chapters while I was hiding in a culvert. Some of the instructors were hunting me, and I had to disappear for a bit.”
“You hid in a culvert?” I said. “What kind of fucking witch are you?”
“Not an especially skilled one,” Veronica said.
“I’m not great at it. I lucked out when they found me with Balthazar’s body.
I managed one good spell and ran. Anyway, while I was hiding and waiting until things were clear, I skimmed this book and read how you were able to figure out who the killer was even though everyone else thought it might be some sort of succubus hierarchy war and—”
“Veronica,” I said, cutting her off. “You said your name was Veronica, right? Listen, I don’t need a synopsis, I lived it, okay?”
At last, something I said seemed to sink in, and she flinched like a chastised child.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m nervous.”
“I’m the one who just had a witch shifter kick my fucking door in, and you’re nervous?”
“I guess that does make sense,” she admitted, looking back toward the hole that used to be my front door. Snow had blown in, leaving melting swirls on the entry mat.
This woman was no threat, I could sense no evil or ill will in what she was doing. Plus, my gift told me everything she was saying was the truth. I allowed myself to relax a bit and tried a different tactic to get her out of my house.
“How about you head on home, sleep this off, and come back tomorrow during normal business hours? Huh?” I said.
“Business hours?” She shook her head, face twisted into a scowl. “No, this can’t wait. I told you, they think I killed Balthazar. And someone kidnapped his niece.”
At the mention of a child, I froze, eyeing her more intently. “A kid?”
Veronica nodded. “Her name is Gwendolyn, but she goes by Wendy. I found her room a mess, the window broken, and she was gone. I went to tell Balthazar and raise the alarm, which is when I found him dead. I swear to the gods, I didn’t do it.”
I winced at her use of the word gods. I’d had enough dealings with those ancient assholes to last a lifetime. In my experience, they tended to enjoy screwing with people for fun more than they did answering any fucking prayers.
“I believe you,” I said, holding my hand up. “Do you think the girl is still alive, though? If they killed the uncle, why wouldn’t they kill her too?”
She pulled a pair of glasses out of her pocket. “I have these.”
I frowned. The lenses had been removed.
“The hell is that?”
“They belonged to Wendy,” she said, staring down at them with a sad look on her face.
“I tried a scrying spell on them while I was hiding. I wanted to see if I could locate her, but…” She looked up at me, and she looked so miserable that I actually pitied her.
“I’m still learning magic. I basically turned them into a mood ring or something.
I can feel when she’s happy or scared or resting, stuff like that. Nothing more.”
I swallowed hard, my throat going dry.
“Uh…how old is this girl?” I asked.
“She’s twelve.”
A fist clenched in my chest, making my heart shudder. An innocent child?
“Mr. McClintoc?” Veronica said, taking a step toward me and holding a hand out. “Are…are you okay?”
I should toss her out on her ass. End this shit before I get into something I don’t need to concern myself with.
It was a good thought, probably the right thought, yet that old, burned-out detective side wasn’t as strong as the flickering flame that had suddenly ignited within me. A desire to right old wrongs, to do one more good deed to try and erase what happened in the past.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I came to a decision that I never in a million years would have believed possible an hour ago.
“Fix my fucking door and wall,” I said, waving a hand. “Use that magic shit you’ve got. Then sit on the couch and tell me everything.”
“You’ll help?” she asked, her face softening with utter relief.
“I didn’t say that. I just want you to fix my shit, then we’ll talk. That’s all. No promises, just talk.”
“Okay,” she said, damn near yelping the word.
She hurried back to the entrance and mumbled a few words while holding her hands over the door.
She was right—she was a fairly shit witch.
Most magic users could have fixed that with a flick of the wrist. She tried three different times before she got the door to float back to the frame and repair itself.
While she worked on fixing the busted wall, I returned to my bedroom and put on a more normal set of clothes, and returned as she finished up.
“All done,” she said, and the smile on her face made me think she’d been a little worried she wouldn’t be able to do it, and that she was proud of herself.
“Uh huh.” I grunted and walked to the small coffee maker that sat by the single window of my office. “Want a cup? I’m not going back to sleep after all this. Might as well get the day started right.”
“I’m fine,” she said as she sat down on the couch.
With my freshly brewed coffee, I walked over and sat across from her. “All right. Out with it. Tell me everything, but”—I gave her a stern look—“don’t you dare lie to me. I’ll know the moment you do.”
Veronica’s brows knit together, and I couldn’t stop myself thinking how cute she looked when she did that.
“Why would I lie to you? You won’t be able to solve my case if I lie.”
I took a sip of coffee, then let out a rueful chuckle. “Well, that is refreshing as hell. For most people, even the ones who are innocent, they default to lying.”
Her eyes widened. “What? Why?”
“They maybe had nothing to do with the crime, but they lie to make themselves look better. They lie to get their opinion across. Maybe they’re a bigot or a racist, and they want whatever group they hate to get blamed.
There’s a dozen reasons an innocent person would lie,” I explained, giving her a bored shrug.
“Well, I’ll never lie to you,” she said.
As soon as the words slipped from her mouth, I knew she was innocent. There was an earnestness and openness in her eyes that no one could fake, and my years of experience and skills as a detective told me all I needed to know about her. This was not a woman who would kill a man and kidnap a child.
A little voice at the back of my mind told me this might be a special case.
A case that could help cleanse my soul. Twelve years old.
So much life left to live. There was no way I’d allow her to die.
Not if I could help it. I’d take this case even though I hadn’t said it yet.
If I played this right, perhaps I could save a child’s life.
One life to atone for my past mistakes.