9. The coven house
THE COVEN HOUSE
mother sent gus out with donuts and a badge.
killers, watch out!
— gus
Riordan is adamant that he’s going to do whatever it takes to figure out who committed a pair of murders in Moonburrow.
All we know currently is that the perpetrator is a wolf shifter.
When we were at the initial crime scene, I wondered out loud if it was possible a feral wolf—whether wild or a disturbed shifter stuck in their fur—could’ve done it.
While Max doesn’t want to count that out, he kept going back to the missing scent and the idea that the killer used wolfsbane.
Most ferals are too far gone to think about covering up any trace of their attack, while wild wolves wouldn’t even know how to use the properties of the herb.
Besides, Moonburrow is in Maryland. There are no local populations of wild wolves in this state, and if they were passing through for some reason, the presence of the pack and its range of shifter types would be enough of a warning to keep the wild beasts away.
Which leaves us with a shifter.
Because I’m fixated, I asked Riordan, too, if it could be a feral. He doesn’t think there are any of the twisted shifters in Moonburrow, but what else does that leave for suspects?
Only every wolf shifter in the Moonshadow Pack…
It has to be shifter clever enough to hide his scent, kill two witches, and somehow get through wards that were specifically strengthened to protect Moonburrow from outsiders…
And I’m supposed to do my best impression of a detective and try to figure out who.
I almost turn around and dash back upstairs. At the moment, I’m standing in the bakery kitchen, holding a small brown paper bag Honey insisted I take before she disappeared out front, when three firm knocks sound against the back door and my heart jumps to my throat.
He told me he would be here early Friday morning. Unless someone has decided to break in through the back, but they chose to knock first, it has to be him. I swallow roughly, swipe my free hand over my hip, and walk over to the door.
And there he is.
My stomach gives one traitorous little flutter as I murmur a soft good morning to Riordan.
He steps easily into the kitchen. Today’s expensive-looking shirt of choice is a deep charcoal grey, only a couple of shades lighter than his black slacks and shoes.
He looks freer than he did on Wednesday; the curse around him isn’t as dark as it was then.
He has his badge in place on his waistband, his eyes alert, and his hair as perfect as always.
Riordan gives me a strange look as he takes me in.
I immediately want to quail and, because I do, I fight against the urge and the anxieties and, instead, keep my eyes on him. Not directly into his gaze enough that his wolf would interpret it as a challenge, but I refuse to act like prey to his predator if I can.
I had enough of that a long time ago.
It’s him. Something about Riordan has me on edge.
You would think that, after spending two months in Moonburrow where there are wolves everywhere, I’d have gotten better at dealing with my nerves.
Up until Olivia appeared and said she’d been murdered by one, I’d been okay.
The only time I let my fear get the better of me was after the chief deputy ordered me to sit down and be quiet, and I could’ve sworn that was more because he stripped my control from me at that moment and it was terrifying.
But no. Despite becoming comfortable around Max Lobo since he comes to visit the bakery every day and I keep running into him, his brother…
I don’t know. I feel my magic rise up every time he’s near, and though part of it’s because he’s cursed and I haven’t been able to find an opening to begin unraveling it yet, there’s another more nagging insistence that I need to be on my guard around him.
Because of the locator spell? It’s possible—and screw possible. It’s probable that my spell brought Riordan to Moonburrow in a way that backfired so spectacularly, the spell is demanding that we stay close.
Why else would he insist that I help him in his investigation?
I understand that he needs me to communicate with Olivia, but how can he expect me to help him solve it?
Sure, Olivia vowed she wouldn’t be able to move on until I told her who killed her, but no one can really believe that I can actually find the murderer?
At the same time, why do I feel this empty sense of loss whenever he’s gone?
I convinced myself it was either a fluke or my magic’s reaction to his curse that led me to just know that he had left.
I got used to his absence, no longer noticing it after a few days to the point that I didn’t even know he’d gotten permission to be let in through the wards and come home until Roxy came into the library and said he was back.
But when I came face to face with him for the first time since a set of silver jail bars were between us? I felt my whole body hum, coming to life.
The same thing happened right this very second, and while I try to get myself under control, I can’t help but obsess over the look he’s giving me as he joins me in the kitchen.
Tugging the sleeves of the oversized caftan hanging over my leggings, I peer up at him. “Is everything okay?”
He shakes his head. “Yeah. It’s just… it’s eighty-five degrees out. You sure you won’t be too warm in that thing?”
“It’s thin,” I tell him, “and it’s excellent sun protection.” I smile brightly, hoping that’s enough to cover up my sudden rush of anxiety. “Witches have a tendency to burn, you know. We don’t care for it. I promise, I’ll be fine.”
It’s not a fib. None of it, and I have to be careful because, like Max, Riordan’s wolf is a dominant alpha. One perk of that classification is that he can somehow know when someone is lying to him.
Is there another reason why I wear long sleeves and long skirts or pants that cover up most of my skin? Of course. Does Riordan need to know that?
Not even a little.
I stay quiet. His gaze drops down again, only this time he lets my outfit of choice pass. Instead, his attention is snagged on the brown bag in my right hand.
“What’s that?”
“Donuts,” I say sheepishly. “I didn’t have time to make breakfast so Honey packed a couple in a bag for me.”
He sticks his thumbs in the belt loops on his slacks. “Does she do that a lot? Feed you?”
Look at that. Riordan has a bit of a teasing side. I never would’ve guessed it.
It’s a shifter thing, and something that Riordan would be more than aware of.
In their culture, they use food to show how much they care for someone.
It says that they love them, that they’ll provide for them, and that they’ll want for nothing if they’re around.
Shifters exist on their stomachs. The funny thing, though, is that I’m not a shifter.
Honey isn’t trying to proposition me by giving me donuts on the house.
She’s just a sweetheart, and she can guess that I’ll be too nervous to eat while I’m around Riordan. It’s her way of saying: try.
But if Riordan is teasing me, maybe I should tease back.
“Don’t worry. Max knows all about it.”
“He does?” His eyebrows draw together. “My brother hasn’t fed you, has he?”
I shake my head, going along with his act. “Not yet. But I know you went and had dinner with him and Honey. I hope you had a great time and you did what you had to do yesterday.”
Now he’s frowning. For a second, I don’t think he heard what I said, but then he clears his throat.
“It was necessary. I had a lot I needed to check out. I’ve never been away from home that long, and I’ll never leave again if I have my way.
But it meant I had a lot on my plate.” He scowls at the bag. “And they weren’t donuts.”
Okay. That was weird.
Time for a subject change.
“Well, you’re here now. I guess that means you’re ready to start…” Whatever? I’m not in law enforcement. I have no idea what we’re going to do first, but before he can supply an answer, the door between the kitchen and the front of the bakery pushes open.
Gus comes scampering into the kitchen, running right over to Riordan. A moment later, the door catches before it closes and Honey pushes it out, an apologetic grimace on her face.
“Sorry about that. I tried to explain to Gus that he has to stay with me here, but he’s determined.”
Gus shakes his head, making the badge on his collar catch the fluorescent light overhead, the brightness reflecting off the old tin star.
Honey bites the corner of her mouth, hiding her smile. “I forgot. He’s Deputy Gus now. And he seems to think that means he belongs on the investigation.”
Riordan looks at the opossum.
Gus looks right back up at the wolf shifter.
Riordan turns to me. “What do you say, Pen?”
I say that, everytime he rumbles the shortened version of my name, I almost forget how to breathe for a second. “I don’t mind. If Gus wants to come, that’s okay with me.”
Riordan pats his shoulder. “Come on up, Gus. But remember: don’t shit on the silk. And try not to snag your claws in the material if you can help it. This shirt cost more than a hundred bucks.”
“And you have a closet full of them in every color,” teases Honey as Gus starts to climb Riordan’s muscular leg like he’s a tree.
“When a male finds a style he likes, there’s no reason to deviate. Just like how I prefer my silk shirts and my slacks and your mate would rather wear the same jeans three days in a row.”
“He washes them!”
“Mm.” Riordan tilts his head, winking at me. As Gus settles on his shoulder, wrapping his tail around Riordan’s thick neck, he jerks his chin. “Do you think I look good, Penelope?”
My mouth falls open.
Honey clicks her teeth. “Don’t tease her, Riordan. It isn’t fair.”
Riordan smiles, and I can’t tell if he means it for me or his brother’s mate. “Who said I was teasing?”