Chapter 3
What does a witch do when a clone of her archenemy shows up at her door unannounced and threatens her?
She goes to see the only person she knows who would know Addison.
My sexy husband and Chief Marcus, that’s who.
Though right now he wasn’t feeling so sexy to me.
He should have told me that Allison had a twin sister. That felt like extremely relevant marital information. Twin homicidal wereapes seemed like something that should’ve come up at least once over dinner.
Preferably before marriage.
I stayed on the porch until Addison disappeared around the corner and then another two minutes to make sure she wouldn’t appear again. Then I turned around and faced my aunts, who’d been obviously doing the same thing.
Beverly still leaned against the porch railing like she was watching the season finale of a supernatural soap opera.
Ruth looked worried.
Dolores looked like she was already mentally preparing several felony-level contingency plans.
“Can you watch Darian for a bit? I need to speak to Marcus,” I said, trying to keep my voice and face from showing too much emotion but failing miserably. My hands were still buzzing faintly with leftover Nexari energy.
Beverly smiled. “Ooh. You’re angry with him. I can foresee in your future some makeup sex. Lots and lots of makeup sex.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “Can we not discuss my marriage like it’s a late-night radio program?”
Beverly looked offended. “I’m trying to support you emotionally.”
“With sex predictions.”
A sensuous smile spread over Beverly’s face. “The best kind of predictions.”
“Ignore the slut,” said Ruth. “Go. We’ll look after Darian. We’re making banana forts.” She grinned.
Yeah. No idea what a banana fort was. But I was sure my kid would love it.
Dolores waved at me. “You want to borrow the Volvo?”
“No need.” I shook my head, turning and already reaching for the ley line that flowed under Davenport House—warm, familiar, thrumming with old magic—and gave it a tug. It rose up humming to meet me. The energy curled instantly around my body like it recognized me.
Comforting. Alive. Home.
Dolores opened her mouth to add something else, but whatever she was about to say got swallowed by the sudden, wild rush of magic as I gripped the ley line and jumped.
Green, blue, brown, and white colors blurred as I vaulted forward. The world stretched around me in a dizzying rush of magic and speed, trees and rooftops smearing together while cold spring air whipped against my face.
And for about two glorious seconds, my brain stopped spiraling.
No Addison. No dead twins. No creepy revenge energy. Just movement.
Then my foot clipped something invisible inside the ley line current.
“Ow! Son of a bitch, that hurt.”
Focus. If I didn’t keep my focus, I might end up in a rosebush somewhere or worse, with my upper body landing in Antarctica while my lower half was in Cambodia.
Not exactly what I wanted right now.
Two seconds later, I recognized my husband’s building, pulled on the ley line to slow down, and then jumped out.
I stood on Shifter Lane and glanced up at the dull gray building that housed the Hollow Cove Security Agency.
The melting snow along the sidewalk had turned everything into a slippery muddy disaster, and after my graceful ley-line shrub assault five seconds earlier, I nearly wiped out again trying to reach the front steps.
Very dignified. Very powerful Nexari witch energy.
I pushed my hair back from my face, trying to compose myself, like a professional ley line riding witch. But my brain was still stuck on Addison.
On her face. On Allison’s face. It felt like the universe recycling trauma in a deeply unnecessary way.
Marcus should’ve told me she existed.
I understood not bringing up every single weird ex wereape situation from your past, but “surprise murderous twin” definitely felt like important relationship information.
I climbed the last step and stared at the front doors for a second longer than necessary. Part of me was angry. Part of me was unsettled. And a very annoying tiny part of me kept replaying Addison’s voice in my head.
If it weren’t for you and your family, my sister would still be alive.
Nope. Absolutely not. I was not doing the guilt thing.
I pulled open the glass front doors and walked inside. Warm air hit my face carrying the familiar scent of coffee, paper, damp coats, and magical exhaustion. Basically, it was the official perfume of supernatural law enforcement.
The agency was busier than normal too. Shifters moved through the hallways with clipped expressions and hurried steps while phones rang somewhere deeper in the building. A pair of witches stood near the bulletin board whispering intensely to each other before abruptly stopping when they noticed me.
I slowed slightly as I moved farther inside, my boots squeaking faintly against the polished floor. I spotted Lori farther down the hall talking quietly with two werewolf deputies.
I rounded the corner toward reception and spotted a witch sitting behind the front desk.
Chin-length black hair framed her pale face, and her dark lace top and velvet skirt gave off strong gothic librarian energy.
She stared down at paperwork in front of her so intensely she didn’t even notice me approaching.
I moved toward the desk, still trying unsuccessfully not to think about Addison standing on my porch looking at me like I was personally responsible for every terrible thing that had ever happened in her life… well, her sister’s life.
Which was especially irritating because I already had enough emotional baggage without strangers adding bonus luggage.
I hurried forward and plopped my hands on her desk. “Hey, Iris.”
The Dark witch looked up. “Hey back.”
I looked around again. “What’s going on here?”
“The Spring Awakening Festival,” answered Iris. “Your aunt Dolores is making the deputies work the festival. And me.”
“Yikes.” I laughed. “Sorry.”
Iris glared at me. “You don’t sound sorry. You sound positively delighted.”
I gave a shrug. “Maybe not delighted,” I teased. “But it feels good to have Dolores bark orders at someone else for a change.”
Iris slowly lowered the paperwork in her hands. “She color-coded evacuation routes.”
“Damn.”
“She made charts.”
“Crap damn.”
“Exactly,” grumbled Iris darkly.
Dolores with municipal authority was becoming more frightening by the day.
“Did you come here to help?” asked Iris, her voice hopeful. “To volunteer your time?”
I lost my smile. “Not exactly. But I am in charge of this beast walk thing.”
“The Awakening Beast Ceremony,” corrected my Dark witch friend, her dark eyes rounded like she wished it was her. Yeah, she probably did.
I sighed and said, “Gorilla Barbie 2.0.”
Iris’s lips parted. “Did Allison get an upgrade?”
“Not exactly. Well… maybe. No. Her twin is here.”
Iris slapped her desk. “Get out.”
“Addison,” I explained.
Iris slowly leaned back in her chair, black-painted nails tapping lightly against the desk. “No.”
“Yes.”
“The homicidal wereape had a twin sister?”
“Apparently.”
“Did you know?” asked Iris.
I shook my head. “Nope.”
Iris’s eyes widened. “Marcus forgot to mention this?”
“Oh yeah.” I pointed aggressively at her. “See? This is exactly my issue. That feels like deeply important husband information.”
Iris nodded seriously. “That’s at least fourth-date material.”
“Right? Maybe even third.”
My friend narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “How identical are we talking?”
I grimaced. “Uncomfortably. Clone-esque.”
Because that was the problem. A major one. It wasn’t just resemblance. It was seeing Allison’s face standing on my porch while calmly discussing prison death and revenge before breakfast.
My nervous system still hadn’t recovered.
“She came to Davenport House?” Iris asked.
“Oh yeah.” I folded my arms tighter. “Stood on the porch looking all leggy and gorgeous and emotionally terrifying while implying I murdered her sister.”
“Fun.” Iris sighed. “I hate that I missed it.”
“She said Allison died in Grimway Citadel during some prison riot.”
Iris’s expression shifted slightly at that. “Really? And?” she asked carefully.
“And now Addison is here.” I threw my hands up. “Which means she wants revenge, closure, answers, emotional trauma bonding, or maybe she’s starting a support group for blondes with unhealthy Marcus obsessions. At this point I’m open to several theories.”
Iris snorted softly. “It is weird that she’s here.”
“She looked at me like she already hated me before I even opened my mouth,” I admitted.
“That may have changed after you opened your mouth,” Iris pointed out dryly.
I thought about it. “Okay, yes, maybe. But she thinks Allison’s death is my fault.”
“It’s not,” said my Dark witch friend. “So, you came here to yell at Marcus?”
“Yes.”
“Healthy.”
“I’m evolving emotionally.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Is he in his office?”
Iris nodded toward the hallway. “Door’s open.” She reached for her phone and started typing away. “Ronin’s going to love this.”
“No shit.” I pushed away from the desk and headed down the hallway, my boots clicking sharply against the floor while my brain continued spiraling at dangerous speeds.
Because now that the initial shock had worn off?
I was getting angrier. Not at Addison. Okay maybe a little at Addison. But mostly at Marcus.
How did your husband casually forget to mention homicidal wereape twins?
What else had this man forgotten? Secret cults? Ancient curses? Tax fraud?
My magic buzzed just under my skin, humming in time with my pulse. I reached Marcus’s office and stepped through the open doorway without knocking.
Iris followed behind me because apparently privacy was dead now.
The chief sat at his desk, his broad frame filling the space like some supernatural bouncer who had just walked into a bar fight.
He wore a black T-shirt that couldn’t contain all those muscles.
Dark tousled hair fell around his jaw and the back of his neck, and his sharp gray eyes flicked up as I stepped inside his office.
My heart sped up. It always did when that sexy husband of mine looked at me in that way, like he wanted to rip off my clothes and throw me over his shoulder to take me to his wereape cave or whatever.
Any other time, I would have gladly played out this vision, but not now.
Now, I was irritated, and I needed answers.
“What is it?” asked Marcus, sensing this wasn’t a booty call. I was always impressed at how sharp his wereape senses were.
“Did you forget to mention something important to me,” I began as I stopped right in front of his desk. “Like the fact that Allison had a twin sister?”
Marcus went still. The kind that made every muscle in my body tighten because my husband only got that quiet when something serious was happening.
I watched his expression carefully, waiting for recognition… guilt… or literally anything.
Instead, confusion flickered across his face. “She had a what?”
I blinked. Okay. That was not the response I expected.
“A twin,” I repeated slowly. “As in identical sister. Matching blonde nightmare package. Her name’s Addison.”
Marcus frowned deeply now, leaning back slightly in his chair. “I didn’t know Allison had a twin.”
I stared at him. “You were engaged to her.”
“I know that.”
“Then how do you not know she had a whole extra person?”
Behind me, Iris nodded in agreement. “That does feel like something that should have come up naturally in conversation.”
Marcus ignored both of us, his gaze locked on mine. “I never met a twin sister. Allison never mentioned one.”
That made absolutely no sense.
I folded my arms tighter. “Marcus, normal people mention siblings.”
“Allison wasn’t normal.”
Fair. Still, something about this felt off.
“She showed up at Davenport House this morning,” I said. “At first I thought it was Allison somehow escaping prison and coming back to ruin my life before breakfast.”
Marcus’s expression darkened at that, protective and instant. The wereape chief sat forward slightly. “What happened?”
“She told us Allison’s dead.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened. “Dead? How?”
I nodded slowly. “Apparently there was some riot at Grimway a few weeks ago. Addison says Allison was killed in her cell.”
For a second, something unreadable passed over Marcus’s face. Not grief exactly. But history. Years of it. The messy kind.
I suddenly felt weirdly awkward standing there talking about his ex-fiancée dying in prison while simultaneously being mad at him for not disclosing secret siblings.
Marriage was exhausting.
“She blamed me,” I continued quietly. “Said Allison would still be alive if it weren’t for me and my family.”
Marcus’s eyes snapped back to mine instantly, sharp and dangerous. “That’s bullshit.”
Some of the tension in my chest loosened slightly hearing him say it. Not because I needed permission to believe it. Just because… Marcus had seen what Allison became. He knew.
“She was calm about it,” I admitted. “Weirdly calm. That’s what bothered me.”
Iris leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed over her black lace sleeves. “Calm people are usually the scary ones.”
“Exactly.” I pointed at her. “Thank you. Allison was chaos. This one feels…” I struggled for the word. “Organized.”
Marcus pushed back slightly from his desk, his entire body language shifting into chief mode now. “Where is she?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
That answer clearly did not please him.
His jaw flexed once. “She threatened you?”
“Not directly.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
I sighed. “Fine. Emotionally threatening. Which somehow felt worse? I don’t know. She basically told me she’d ‘see me later’ in a way that made my internal organs uncomfortable.”
Iris nodded solemnly. “That’s usually a bad sign.”
Marcus stood. The movement alone changed the entire energy in the room. Big. Controlled. Dangerous. Protective alpha wereape energy flooded the office instantly, and despite everything, part of my brain still annoyingly noticed how attractive he looked when he got all growly and territorial.
Stupid hormones.
“I’ll put people on this,” announced Marcus.
Iris lifted her phone. “Already working on it. If Addison’s staying anywhere in Hollow Cove, somebody will know.”
Marcus gave a single nod—efficient, very chief-like, super sexy.
No.
Focus, Tessa.
I looked back at Marcus again. “Are you absolutely sure Allison never mentioned her? Ever? Not even once?”
Marcus shook his head slowly. “No twin. No sister. Nothing.”
“What about family photos?”
“She hated talking about her family.”
“Did she ever say where she grew up?”
“Not specifically.”
I frowned. That bothered me. A lot. Because Allison had been obsessed with Marcus. Obsessed people talked. Obsessed people overshared. How did an entire twin sister never come up?
I suddenly had the awful feeling that instead of getting answers, I’d somehow only unlocked a much bigger problem.
And deep down, beneath all the confusion and irritation and spiraling thoughts, I already knew one thing with absolute certainty.
Addison was up to something.
She wanted revenge? Fine.
But whatever she was planning… I was going to figure it out first.