No Crone Unturned Read online

  She shot me a sidelong look. “Name one play you’ve ever been to.”

  “Hamilton. Wicked. The Cursed Child.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Seriously?”

  I nodded. “You guys don’t have much theater, but there’s plenty in Detroit. I’ve been to the Fox Theatre and the Fisher many times.”

  “That is so cool.”

  I considered suggesting a trip south when we could manage it to take her to a show, but I held my tongue. Before getting her hopes up I had to clear it with her grandmother and get the time off. The invitation would have to wait until I had calendars all lined up. “I think you’re going to be the star of your play,” I assured her. “We’re all going as a group and you’ll have a huge cheering section.”

  “Probably the biggest cheering section,” Gunner agreed.

  “Not the biggest.” Raisin made a face. “Shiloh Walker has, like, four brothers and sisters and a bunch of cousins and uncles. They’ll all be there for her.”

  “Yes, but you have people going who aren’t required to because of blood,” I reminded her. “Your cheering section is better.”

  She brightened immediately. “Yeah. There is that.”

  Gunner waited until she was in the house to put his truck in drive. “Have you really been to a lot of theater productions?” he asked as he pulled onto the highway.

  I nodded. “I’m more than just a pretty face.”

  He grinned as he reached over and collected my hand. “I guess so. You’re definitely layered.”

  “Just wait until you learn about my penchant for animals-eating-people movies.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “I can’t get enough of them.”

  “You’re multifaceted weird.”

  “Absolutely.”

  THE RAIN DISSIPATED DURING THE NIGHT and the morning air smelled fresh when I woke the next day. Gunner was still passed out, dead to the world, so I took the opportunity to have my coffee on the front porch. Merlin tried to join me, but I was afraid he would wander into the woods and be attacked by a bigger predator — he was still a kitten after all — so I latched the screen. He proceeded to howl and throw himself at the door to force my hand.

  I pretended I didn’t notice.

  “Good morning,” Gunner murmured when he joined me thirty minutes later. He was shirtless, his hair mussed, and he looked incredibly appetizing. His morning stubble was always a turn on, though I had no idea why. It baffled me. He pressed a kiss to my forehead and then sat in the chair next to mine. “Why are you up so early?”

  That was a good question. I didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know. Just woke up early.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Nightmares?”

  “No.” I shook my head. My dreams had been tumultuous, but I wouldn’t call them nightmares. “Just ... restless.”

  He studied me for a long moment, took a sip of his coffee, and then shifted before finally speaking. “You know, this relationship thing works best when we talk to one another. I know neither of us are exactly experts, but it might be worth a shot.”

  I heaved out a sigh. I knew what he was doing, and I wouldn’t necessarily disagree. That didn’t mean I was in the mood for a heavy discussion. “I just feel like something is going to happen,” I said finally.

  “Between us? If you get your cute little behind back inside I can guarantee something happens.”

  He made me laugh, which was probably his goal. “I think I’ll stick with my coffee for now.” I shot him a pointed look. “And, no, I wasn’t talking about us. I think things between us seem solid.”

  “They do. That’s what worries me. I’m not sure you do ‘solid.’”

  That might’ve been true in the past. But now, well ... I was comfortable. It was a weird feeling for me. “I’m pretty happy for now. If things change, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Fair enough.” He sipped his coffee again. “You were jacked up during the storm some last night. Does this have something to do with that?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, uncertain, and then shrugged. “It’s just a feeling I have. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “Are you afraid of storms?”

  I shot him a withering look. “Um ... I blew up a bog monster last night. I’m pretty sure that storms are low on my list of things to worry about. Well, except for tornados. I’m not a big fan of storms that can do lasting damage.”

  “I agree with you there.” He pursed his lips. “I trust your feelings. You’re one of the most intuitive people I’ve ever met. If you think something bad is about to happen, I have to think you know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah, well ... that’s just it. There’s nothing to point us in a direction. I’m simply uneasy.”

  “Well ... .” Whatever he was going to say died on his lips when his cell phone rang. He grumbled as he got to his feet and headed inside to retrieve it. He’d already answered and was talking when he rejoined me. “Are you sure?” He sounded annoyed as he listened. “No, Dad, I’m not suggesting you don’t know what a murder looks like. I was asking about the paranormal aspects.”

  I sat up straighter, the hair on the back of my neck rising. Could this be the start of it? Was this part of the reason I couldn’t shake the sense of dread that had been threatening to swallow me whole for the past ten hours?

  “Fine.” Gunner blew out a sigh. “We need to shower. We’ll meet you in town in an hour.” He didn’t disconnect. Instead he waited. “Oh, don’t be a pain,” he said after a moment. “I don’t care if you want to make fun of us for being domestic. I’m not sixteen. That won’t work on me.” More silence. “Oh, whatever. You’re the worst father ever.”

  He ended the call and turned his attention to me. “There’s a body downtown.”

  I’d already ascertained that. “I take it we’re heading to town.”

  “Yeah. I think we’re needed.”

  “Then I guess we should hit the shower.”

  Gunner let loose an annoyed sigh. “And there went my plans to get you back into bed.”

  Despite the serious turn the conversation had taken, I was amused. “It’s still early. You might get your wish by the end of the day.”

  “There’s something to look forward to.”

  GRAHAM STRATTON WAS A BULL OF A man. Looking at him was like looking at Gunner in thirty years. I wasn’t unhappy with the image. Gunner was named after his father but refused to go by the moniker. In fact, he was distinctly uncomfortable with it. It always amused me when Graham poked his son by using the name ... or a variation of it.

  “Hello, Junior,” he called out as we approached the scene behind the library. The area had been taped off and he was the only one standing nearby.

  Gunner scowled. “Do you have to call me that?”

  “Yes. It irritates you.”

  “And that’s the only reason you do it, right?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “You suck.” Gunner growled and slid his eyes to me as I struggled not to smile. “I know you’re enjoying this. Don’t bother denying it.”

  I pretended I didn’t hear him and focused on Graham. “What have you got, Chief?”

  Graham’s eyes lit with amusement as he looked me over. Unlike his son, his relationship with me was somehow warmer ... and I was still trying to figure out why. He seemed to like me, which ran counter to everything I’d heard about him. Gunner told me his father would never approve of anything he did, yet Graham appeared to like his son’s girlfriend. The whole thing was a riddle.

  “Good morning, Scout.” He looked me up and down. “You look lovely this morning.”

  I was dressed in my usual jeans and T-shirt, so I knew he was throwing out the compliment simply to rankle Gunner. I decided not to get involved in that aspect of their relationship. “Thank you. What’s with the dead girl?” I inclined my head toward the body on the ground. A sheet covered it, but there could be no confusion as to what was underneath.

  Graha
m’s smile faded. “Honey Martelle.”

  Gunner shifted. “You’re kidding.”

  Obviously he knew our victim. “Are you telling me this woman’s real name was Honey?” I was appalled at the thought. “Who would name their kid that?”

  “I don’t know, Scout.” Graham pinned me with a look. “Sometimes people name their kids weird things.”

  I didn’t look away. “My parents didn’t name me Scout. A firefighter did, after a character in his favorite book. I have no idea what my real name is.”

  He shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. “Actually, I believe I already knew that. I didn’t mean to bring it up again.”

  “Yes, because I’m an abandoned child and I have tender feelings,” I drawled. “You must be very careful not to upset me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re a real piece of work.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. Still, he’d called us down here for a reason. “Why do you need us? I’m gathering this isn’t a run-of-the-mill murder.”

  “Not even close.” Graham was grim as he knelt next to the body. He took a moment to look around to make sure we hadn’t garnered any looky-loos and then peeled back the sheet from the head and neck. “Does this look normal to you?”

  The question didn’t require an answer. I was horrified by what I saw, but I kept my expression neutral. Honey — and no matter what he said, that was a stupid name — didn’t have a throat. It appeared to have been completely ravaged. There was blood everywhere, including all over her shirt ... and her green eyes were open and sightless.

  “Oh, geez.” Gunner looked pained. “I can’t ... what did this?”

  “Why do you think I called you?” Graham challenged. “This is your realm of expertise. I’m just a lowly cop.”

  “I don’t know what did this,” Gunner countered. “Unless ... do you think this has something to do with your bog monster?”

  When I glanced at him, I found him watching me with keen eyes. I knew what he was really asking. Was this why I’d been so keyed up? It seemed a likely option.

  “I don’t see how the bog monster could’ve done this,” I replied. “I mean ... I blew him up. You saw Marissa. There’s no coming back from that.”

  “Maybe there was more than one,” Gunner suggested. “Maybe the second one saw you take out the first and decided to come to town to exact some revenge.”

  That was entirely possible, but it didn’t feel right. “The people who reported the bog monster said he was stealing food and biting legs when people tried to swim. They didn’t mention anything about ripping out throats.”

  “He could’ve upped the ante because he was enraged.”

  “I guess.” I rolled my neck, unconvinced. “I don’t think we’re dealing with a bog monster.”

  Graham held up his hand to silence us. “Do I even want to know what the two of you are talking about?”

  “Probably not,” I replied. “It doesn’t matter anyway. No backwoods creature that only attacks people away from the lights of the town did this. We’re dealing with something else.”

  “What?” Gunner asked. “You were upset this morning. Is it because of this?”

  “It’s not as if I knew about this,” I shot back. “If you’re insinuating I did, you’re wrong.”

  He held up his hands. “I’m not trying to pick a fight with you. I’m not blaming you. I’m trying to figure this out.”

  “Geez, I see you two need to work on your interpersonal skills,” Graham muttered.

  I would’ve snapped at him, but he wasn’t wrong.

  “Leave her alone,” Gunner growled.

  “Actually, that was a dig at you, son.”

  “Then ... leave me alone.”

  I ignored the father-son sniping and moved closer to the body, dropping to a crouch for a better look. “When is the medical examiner coming?” I asked when there was a lull in the insults.

  “He’s running behind,” Graham replied. “It’s going to be a good two hours, and since all of my officers are either patrolling or off, that means I’m stuck here babysitting a corpse.”

  “Oh, poor you,” Gunner drawled. “How will you survive?”

  “I could put you on the ground next to her,” Graham shot back. “I mean ... you two used to date and all. Maybe it will make you nostalgic for old times.”

  I sensed rather than saw Gunner’s head snap in my direction. I pretended not to have heard the comment. It’s not as if I didn’t know Gunner had a past. Sure, I could’ve gone without knowing that he dated a woman named Honey, but that was hardly high on our list of concerns.

  “Why did you have to bring that up?” Gunner hissed. “I mean ... are you trying to hurt Scout?”

  “Of course not,” Graham shot back. “I was trying to annoy you.”

  “Well, good job.” Gunner shot his father a sarcastic thumbs-up as I waved my hand over the wound and unleashed a bit of magic.

  Graham snapped his head in my direction when he realized what I was doing. “Don’t mess with the body!”

  “I’m not messing with the body,” I reassured him. “I’m trying to see under the blood. I’ll put it back.”

  “Put it back?” He furrowed his brow, confused. Then, as the spell began to take hold, his eyes widened. The blood that had been there moments ago disappeared, leaving behind a clear view of what was left of poor Honey’s neck.

  “What is that?” Gunner asked, squinting as he tried to make out the remnants of what used to be unmarred skin and bone. “Are those ... teeth marks?”

  I nodded, lifting my phone so I could take a photo before dropping the magic and returning the blood to where it had previously rested. “Vampires,” I said succinctly. “We’re dealing with vampires.”

  Graham was all business. “How can you be sure? I mean ... the neck thing would seem to be a giveaway, but I know other creatures that kill by ripping out throats.”

  “The two puncture wounds are distinct,” I replied. “She was fed on before being drained.”

  “Will she turn?”

  I hesitated before answering. “I don’t think so,” I said finally. “I don’t see any blood around her lips. She would have to feed on the vampire to turn. I guess it’s a possibility, but I don’t think that’s what we’re dealing with.”

  “Should I stake her just in case?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you want to stake her? I might wait to see if she rises, because she might be able to describe her assailant. Then we would know who we’re looking for. I don’t want to tell you how to do your job or anything, though.”

  He scowled. “You know, the more time you spend with my son the less cute you become.”

  “Oh, that’s not true,” Gunner countered. “I think you’re adorable when you irritate my father.”

  I was in no mood for their shenanigans. I had other things to worry about. “If it’s a lone vampire, he should be easy to dispatch,” I mused, mostly to myself. “If it’s a nest, though ... .”

  “Have you dealt with many nests?” Graham asked, his eyes somber.

  I nodded. “There are a lot of abandoned buildings in Detroit. They make for great nest locations ... for vampires and wraiths. I’ve wiped out a few nests in my time. The biggest was sixty vampires.”

  Gunner was taken aback. “Are you serious? We rarely see them here. This is more shifter territory.”

  “Which is why most vampires would want to stay away.” I grunted as I stood, something occurring to me. “Tell me about the house on the hill.”

  Gunner and Graham adopted twin looks of confusion, their eyebrows drawing together as their foreheads wrinkled.

  “What house on the hill?” Gunner asked finally.

  “The one out by the swamp. It’s on a bluff. Marissa said it was abandoned, but last night I could swear someone was near our bikes while we were gone, and I felt as if someone was watching me. I brushed it off as nerves after my fight with the bog monster, but what if it’s something else
?”

  Gunner tilted his head, considering. “I know the house you’re talking about. As for history, I don’t know it. It’s been empty for as long as I can remember.”

  Graham volunteered, “I can’t remember the family’s name, but I can look it up.”

  I nodded encouragingly. “Do that. While you’re at it, see if the deed has changed hands recently. I swear someone is up there.”

  “That should be easy enough.” Graham folded his arms over his chest. “What are you going to do?”

  I offered him a blinding smile. “Why, break into the house, of course. I’m pretty sure something evil is up there. If not vampires, it might be something else that needs to be taken down. It’s worth a look.”

  “You can’t just tell a police officer that you’re going to break into a house,” Graham complained bitterly.

  “I just did and I seem to have survived,” I noted, earning a wink from Gunner, who was back to enjoying himself. “It’s abandoned, right? I’m technically not breaking and entering if nobody lives there.”

  “Yeah, that’s not how it works.”

  “Let’s pretend it is ... at least for today.”

  “Whatever. My son has definitely been a bad influence on you.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  Four

  Gunner didn’t even bother putting up a fight about our destination. Instead, he took the lead when we rode out to the house. He knew where the driveway was, and we parked directly in front of the rundown manor and removed our helmets.

  “This place doesn’t look abandoned,” Gunner said as he eased off his bike, his eyes trained on the upstairs windows, which consisted of intact stained glass. “Those windows weren’t there as recently as a few months ago.”

  I hadn’t seen the stained glass windows the previous evening. It was dark and I was too far away. Up close, though, they were interesting ... and a bit disturbing.

  “That’s a pentagram.” I pointed toward the window in the nearest turret. “Why would anyone want to advertise like that?” When he didn’t immediately respond, I turned in his direction and found him watching me with an unreadable expression. “What?”