Grave Attraction (13 page)

Once seated, they ordered red wine with their pierogi and split a basket of challah bread.

“See, what did I tell you?” Adam asked as he relished his meal. He paused to wipe his mouth with his napkin. “They're the best pierogi in town.”

Marlena shrugged, holding back her smile. “Mmm. They're good.”

“What do you mean, good?” he said, as if offended. “They're freaking fantastic.”

“Okay, they're fantastic.” She reached for her glass and sipped her wine. The red he'd chosen went well with the food and tasted absolutely delicious. “How did you become such a connoisseur of Polish cuisine?”

“It came with being part of a big Polish family.”

“How big?”

“I was the second of seven and the oldest boy.”

Marlena let out a low whistle. “Wow, that is a big family. That must have been a lot of fun.”

In contrast, she'd been an only child, an oddity in a time when large families had been the norm. Her mother had disappeared when Marlena was only four, leaving just her and Papa. If he wasn't working the fields, he was passed out drunk, and she'd quickly learned how to fend for herself.

“I guess you could say that. With that many people in the house, though, you couldn't get away with much of anything.” A troubled look crossed Adam's face, but then he blinked and it was gone. He smiled as if remembering something funny. “The mornings before school were always a pain. All of us kids had to share one bathroom, and if my older sister got in there first, she'd use up all the hot water.”

Marlena laughed. “Are you close to any of them?”

His expression sobered. “Not anymore. You can't when you're a reaper.”

Aw, crap. She was such an idiot. She should have known he couldn't keep contact with his mortal family now that he was no longer human. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. I'm the one who screwed up.” He picked up his glass and drained half of the wine before setting it back on the table. “How about you? Any family?”

“Just Cassie.” And that was all she needed. At least that's what she kept telling herself. Still, there were times where she longed for something more, something that couldn't be satisfied through companionship alone.

“I've been meaning to ask about her. Dmitri said she's your daughter. Is that true?”

She nodded, understanding his confusion. “Adopted.”

“Ah. How did that come about?”

While they finished their meal, she told him the story of how she'd found the young orphan on the streets of Paris, taken the girl back with her to the United States, and raised her as her own.

“Why were you in France to begin with?” he asked. “Wasn't that during World War Two?”

“Yeah. I was in Munich when the war started.” Talk about lousy timing. Restless and lonely, she'd traveled to the region in search of kindred who used to live there. Less than a month later, Germany invaded Poland. “I managed to cross the border into Switzerland and stayed there until the war ended. Then I made my way to France and booked passage on a ship to the States.”

She smiled at the memory of the grubby little girl who'd tried to pick her pocket. The fire in Cassie had called out to her and touched something she'd long considered dead. Maybe it was because they'd both been alone, or maybe she just couldn't bring herself to leave the girl on the streets to fend for herself. Either way, it was a good thing she'd brought enough money to bribe the right people. Otherwise, the little witch would have been trapped in an immigration nightmare.

Adam wiped his mouth and set the napkin on the table. “So how'd you become a shifter? Were you bitten or something?”

“No, you're thinking of the old werewolf legends.” It was a common misconception, even among non-humans. “Shifters are born, not made. We age just like humans until we reach about twenty, then the process slows down a bit.”

“How much is a bit?”

“About a year for every century.”

Adam didn't say anything for a second or two. “And you're how old?”

“Four hundred twenty-three.” Although there were days when she felt closer to a thousand.

Adam's eyes widened. “Wow, you must have some stories to tell. Were you ever married?”

Christopher's face flashed through her mind, and grief and guilt squeezed her heart. Had he survived, the mate bond would have slowed the aging process and prolonged his natural life. She still would have outlived him, but barring injury or illness, he could have lived for a couple hundred years. “I was married once, but he died a long time ago.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories.”

“No, it's okay. You had no way of knowing.” She tried forcing a smile but failed. It felt weird to be talking about her deceased husband with the man who harbored his soul. “We were married for a year before, well . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“And you never remarried? After all this time?”

“How could I? I was mourning the loss of my mate.”

“Yeah, but—didn't you miss”—he made a vague gesture with his hands—“you know?”

“Not really.” That was a lie. Even now, she yearned for her mate's touch. Shifters were sexual creatures by nature, but they usually bonded for life. Losing her mate at such a young age had been crippling, especially when she went into season. She'd tried a few times to satisfy the cravings but found all of her partners lacking. Eventually, she'd just given up.

“Maybe you never found the right person.”

“Maybe.” She looked into his eyes, darkened with lust and hunger. Wicked awareness sped through her system, making her wish they were alone. She blinked, forcing her gaze away before she did anything stupid. “What about you? Married? Engaged?”

“No on both counts.” He paused to drink the last of his wine and signaled the waitress for another. “I had a baby girl, though. She's ten now.”

Ah, there it was, the reason for the frown lines. “You must have been young when she was born.”

He nodded. “I'd just graduated from the academy when Sherry found out she was pregnant. We tried to make a go of it, but in the end we both wanted different things.” A faint smile creased his mouth while storm clouds gathered in his eyes. “She's a beautiful little girl. And smart. Even when I was working undercover, I figured out ways to sneak over and visit her at least once a week.”

“What's her name?”

“Kaitlyn. She has my eyes and hair, but the rest of her looks like her mother.”

The waitress stopped by to refill their wineglasses and to see if they needed anything else. Marlena told the woman she was fine, while Adam asked for a dessert menu.

“Be right back,” Adam said as he stood. He walked toward the rear of the restaurant where the kitchen and restrooms were located.

Marlena glanced down at her purse, temptation nagging her brain. She unzipped the main compartment and brushed her fingertips against the small vial inside. The restaurant was quiet, and no one would notice if she slipped Cassie's potion into Adam's glass. The wine was strong enough to mask the bitter flavor. He'd never know until it was too late.

But was that what she really wanted? He'd regain the memories of their love and their mate bond, but he'd also remember the gruesome details leading up to his death. Was it fair to force those memories upon him without his knowledge or consent? Not to mention she still didn't know the full effects of the potion. What if it caused him irrevocable harm?

Besides, if she were being honest with herself, she liked the man Christopher had become. Adam was a good man, funny and smart, and the more time she spent with him, the more attracted she became. The admission gnawed on her conscience. It felt like a betrayal, to choose the man he was now over the man she'd fallen in love with and had chosen as her mate. Christopher had lost his life because of her, and here she was, ready to cast him aside in favor of the updated version.

No. She couldn't bring herself to do it. Not now at least. Besides, she could always slip him the potion later if she changed her mind. Decision made, she zipped her purse closed, picked up her fork, and polished off the last of her pierogi.

Adam returned a few minutes later and slid back into his seat.

“Ready for dessert?” he asked as he lifted his wineglass and took a sip.

Marlena looked down at her empty plate. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten that much, and her clothes were starting to feel tight. “No, thanks. I'm full.”

“Oh, but you have to try their strudel. It practically melts in your mouth.”

It sounded delicious, but if she ate another bite, she'd probably pop like a tick under a match flame. “I wish I could, but I'm too full.”

He stared at her for a long moment as if trying to figure something out. “This isn't some kind of girl thing, is it? Where you don't want a guy to see you eat too much?”

“Hardly. You just watched me polish off half a loaf of challah bread and six pierogi.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right.” He grinned, and it melted her bones. “Come on, live a little. We'll split the strudel and then take a walk downtown to burn off the calories.”

That actually sounded like a good idea, although her hormones were thinking of other ways to work off dinner and dessert. With her assailants at large and Cassie afraid for her safety, she'd agreed to the witch's request that she curtail her outdoor activities. But her daughter wouldn't mind her going out in public if Adam was by her side. Not only was he a reaper, he was also a trained law enforcement off icer. She couldn't be in safer hands.

Marlena picked up her glass and sipped her wine. It went down smoothly, leaving a warm trail in its wake. Just a few bites, she told herself, and a nice walk to help settle dinner. Then she thought about what might happen next, and her heart pounded with anticipation.

A
dam was right. The strudel was incredible.

An hour later, they were walking along the streets of downtown Winter Park. The brick-lined roads and canopy of oak trees gave the area a cozy feel. Even for a Wednesday, the place was quiet, probably because the night was young and the evening crowd had yet to filter in. Another couple hours, and the bars and restaurants would be filled with people in search of a good time.

“Do you come down here often?” Marlena asked Adam. A cluster of people waited for the light to change, and when it did, they crossed the street as one big herd.

“Yeah, but it's been a while.” His posture was relaxed, but those cop eyes of his never stopped scanning their surroundings. He reached for her hand and threaded his fingers with hers, and the simple contact warmed her inside. “The last couple times I was here was for jobs, and I usually steer clear for a month or two after those.”

Made sense. “So where did you want to go?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. Are you in the mood for drinks, entertainment, or good old-fashioned people watching?”

They stopped at the intersection of Park and Morse. The SunRail station was off to the right, just past the park with its beautiful rose garden. A group of young men walked by wearing baggy pants that hung low enough to expose the top half of their underwear. One of them kept a continuous grip on his waistband, probably to keep his pants from dropping to his ankles.

Marlena glanced up at Adam. “I know a place where we can get all three.”

His eyes sparked with interest. “Where? Is it new?”

She shook her head. “No, it's been around a while, but it's a few blocks away from here. Are you up for a walk, or would you rather drive?” They'd parked his truck a few streets away, but it wouldn't take long to retrieve it.

“I'm good for a walk. Lead the way.”

 

The crowds thinned as they moved away from the downtown area, until they reached a building with apartments on the upper floors and shops at ground level. It was a part of the city that hadn't been fully revitalized but had made strides in that direction over the past couple years.

Adam didn't visit the area very often, mainly because he didn't care for the snobby college kids that hung around the main drag. The only reason he'd suggested it was because it was a relatively safe place to walk at night, and after everything Marlena had been through, he didn't want her to worry.

“Here it is,” she said as she stopped in front of a shop with “Beltane Apothecary” written on the front window in fancy script lettering.

He eyed the storefront, with its quaint little planters beneath the window and a bicycle rack off to the side. “Is there something Cassie needs?”

“No, this is the place I was telling you about.”

Okay, that didn't make a lick of sense, but he decided to go with the flow. He held the door open and followed her inside. The place was neat and brightly lit, with shelves of dark-colored bottles lining the perimeter walls. The cool air smelled of incense and wax. An antique counter made of stained wood stretched across the back wall, where a middle-aged brunette wearing a white smock and wire-framed glasses poured liquid into a bottle.

“Hey, Nadia,” Marlena said as she approached. “How's business?”

“About the usual for a Wednesday night,” Nadia replied, her voice as husky as a three-pack-a-day smoker. Her life force gave off the distinct vibe of a witch. She finished filling the bottle and screwed on the cap. “The evening crowd should be coming in soon.”

“Evening crowd?” Adam asked, confused.

Marlena nodded toward the back of the store. “Come on, I'll show you.”

Leading the way past an opening in the counter, she brought him to a back office with a simple desk and large metal storage cabinet. About a dozen or so boxes were stacked in the corner, along with a small shelf crammed full of junk. There was a second door off to the left with a piece of paper taped at eye level displaying a simple message:

 

 

“What are the rules?” Adam asked.

“No fighting, no weapons, no smoking, no spitting, no pets, no standing on the bar, no flash photography, no bare feet, and no credit cards.”

“That's an awful lot of noes.”

“With this crowd, it's either lay down the law or mop up the mess.”

Adam arched a brow, not sure if he should be nervous or excited. “What kind of place is this?”

“Somewhere folks like us can meet without having to deal with humans.”

Forget nervous, now he was intrigued. During his time as a reaper, he'd only met a few non-humans, and he was curious about what else was out there. Only one problem. “Sounds good, but I don't have a lot of cash on me.”

“No problem. I'll cover your tab this time. You coming or what?”

He made a sweeping motion with his hand. “After you.”

Beyond the door was what looked like your run-of-the-mill dive bar, complete with a dozen or so tables and walls decorated with posters and neon signs. The bar itself sported at least ten taps, and there were dozens of bottles of hard liquor lined up on shelves in front of a mirrored wall. On the adjacent wall was a flat-screen television tuned to one of the sports networks. The bartender gave them a casual nod as they made their way to an empty table not far from the dartboards.

“How come I've never heard of this place?” he asked as they passed a trio of young witches sharing a pitcher of beer. One of them gave him a brazen once-over before winking and blowing him a kiss. Normally, that would be his cue to make a move, but the curvy redhead didn't push his buttons like the sexy blond shifter walking in front of him.

“Beats me. Dmitri used to come here all the time.” She took the seat by the wall. “What's going on with him anyway? Aside from him stopping by to ask for a favor, he's totally dropped off the radar.”

“He got married,” Adam said simply. The surprise in her eyes let him know she hadn't heard the news. Odd, since her daughter was aware of it. “I thought Cassie would have told you.”

And just like that, her expression shuttered. “We don't talk much about him.”

“Why not?” He'd noticed the mutual hostility between them when he'd first visited the witch's house. At the time, it hadn't surprised him, since Dmitri made a hobby out of pissing people off. Still, he was curious about the source of the animosity, and the big Russian had refused to explain it.

“You'd have to ask Dmitri that question.” The scorn in her voice made it clear that the former reaper was a touchy subject.

A waitress wearing skintight clothes and a ridiculous amount of makeup stopped at the table to take their order. Since he'd be driving soon, Adam ordered a glass of water while Marlena ordered a bottle of Guinness Stout.

“How often do you come here?” Adam asked once the waitress moved out of earshot.

Before Marlena could answer, a pair of demons approached their table and stood directly behind her. In the privacy of the bar, they didn't bother concealing their true nature. Their skin was burgundy with a metallic tint that lightened around the eyes. Blackened horns curved up from their temples, spiraling like some type of antelope. The smaller one was pudgy and kind of goofy-looking, but his buddy was built like a professional wrestler with a huge upper body and arms the size of Adam's legs. During his time on the force, he'd dealt with the type. Usually, the excessive bulk made them clumsy in a fight, but they still were tough to take down.

The bigger one crossed his arms over his chest, an impressive feat considering the size of his pecs. When he sneered, he showed a hint of fang. “Hey, look who's here. It's the runt.”

Marlena tossed a glance over her shoulder. Despite the size of the guy and his apparent aggression, she didn't seem overly concerned. “Well, if it isn't Itchy and Scratchy. What brings you boys here tonight?”

Judging by the look on the bigger one's face, he wasn't amused. He sat down on one of the unoccupied chairs, which groaned under his massive weight. “You've got a lot of nerve, showing up on our turf.”

She cocked her head a little to one side and leaned back against her seat. “Funny, I didn't realize this was your turf, but then again, it wouldn't really matter.”

The demon—was he Itchy or Scratchy?—snarled.

Adam shifted in his seat, ready to stand, but Marlena nudged him under the table with her foot. She gave him a quick shake of her head, signaling for him to stay put.

“Save it for someone who'd be impressed,” she told the demon, sounding bored. “I don't want to fight with you, boys. But since you're here, I could use some information.”

The smaller one's face pinched up like he'd just tasted something bitter. “And what makes you think we'd help you, after what you pulled the last time?”

Adam shot her a questioning look.

She gestured toward the smaller demon. “Itchy tried to screw me over on a deal. That's why his right horn's so short.”

Now that she mentioned it, Adam noticed the difference in horn length. Instead of curving back into an elegant point like the left one, the right horn had been broken off at about the halfway mark. From what he'd heard, horn size was a big thing with demons, and having one broken by a shifter must have dealt a big blow to his ego.

“I still owe you for that,” Itchy snarled, his fingers moving up to stroke the blunt end of his broken horn. “Maybe we should settle the score here and now. I don't think anyone in here would mind.”

On the outside, Marlena appeared calm, but Adam couldn't help but notice how the tips of her fingers had elongated into claws. He curled his hands into fists beneath the table, preparing for things to head south.

“You don't want to do that,” she told Itchy, the warning clear in her voice. She pointed a claw in Adam's direction. “If you do, you might piss off the reaper.”

Both sets of demon eyes focused on Adam as if noticing him for the very first time. Scratchy's lips peeled back from his teeth. “You brought a fucking reaper in here?”

Marlena shrugged. “Why not? He's tight with Dmitri, and you know how much fun he can be.”

Itchy leaned so far back in his chair it was a wonder it didn't tip over. Scratchy didn't seem as intimidated by the mention of Dmitri, but he was obviously uncomfortable. “What do you want?”

“Two things. Have you heard about any of our kind moving into the area?”

Scratchy shook his head. “No, why?”

“Just checking on a rumor I heard. Somebody told me a big player came to town, and I wanted to see if it was true.”

The big demon looked like he didn't believe her but didn't want to call her out on it. “What's the second question?”

“It's more along the lines of a heads-up.” The waitress came back with their drinks, and Marlena paused long enough to take a sip of her Guinness. “Someone's hunting non-humans. Spread the word and watch your back.”

That got their attention. The two demons exchanged a look that Adam couldn't interpret.

“And you know this how?” Itchy asked.

“Because the bastards almost nailed me last week.” Her expression sobered, as if she was taking note of their unease. “You don't happen to know of any missing demons, do you? The assholes carved one up while I was locked inside a cage.”

Scratchy blanched. “This demon, what did he look like?”

“He was young—eighteen, nineteen tops. Tall, thin, with short brown hair and green eyes. I'm guessing he hadn't reached maturity yet because he never shifted into demon form.”

Itchy snarled something in his native tongue. He pounded his fist against the table hard enough to make their drinks jump.

“You know who I'm talking about?” Marlena's eyes softened with sympathy.

Scratchy nodded, his features grim. “He's the son of one of his clan mates. The boy went missing last week, but they assumed he'd just gone off with some friends or a female.”

“Do you remember if he had any markings?” Itchy's voice cracked when he asked the question.

“Yeah.” Marlena's eyes squinted as if she was trying to remember the details. “There was one on the right side of his neck, kind of crescent shaped but with rounded ends.”

The last shreds of Itchy's composure collapsed, and he let out a mournful wail so loud the patrons at the other tables peered over in their direction.

Adam didn't envy Marlena's role in breaking the bad news. As a cop, he'd occasionally been given the task of informing the next of kin. He still remembered the pain on each person's face when he delivered the devastating news.

“I'm sorry.” Marlena laid a hand on the table, close to Itchy's but not quite touching.

“At least he knows.” With his shoulders slumped, Scratchy leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Do you know where the humans took his body? We'll need it to perform last rites.”

“I can't say for sure, but you might want to check with the medical examiner's office.”

Scratchy laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, silently urging him to stand. “Thank you for the information. If you find who did this, let us know, and we'll make them pray for death.”

“You can have them after I'm finished.” She grabbed Itchy's arm as he turned to go. When he looked back, she met his mournful gaze. “Your boy was worthy of your clan. He tried to protect me, and for that I owe him a debt. If it's the last thing I do, I'll find the assholes who did this.”