No Rest for the Wicca (5 page)

Gilley looked me up as I walked in. “Morgan.” His eyes flicked first over me, then to his watch.

I slid into the chair directly in front of his desk. “I’m a little late. I’m sorry, sir. I had a slight altercation on
Hammond
, and I had to rush home and ch—“

He held up his hand. “No need to apologize.” He looked me up and down again. “You look nice. Very professional. Very capable.”

I flushed. I wasn’t used to such praise
and especially not from Gilley
. “Thank you, sir.”

He adjusted his reading glasses, tapped the fat file in front of him. “We can get started now. I’d like you to be filled in on the salient points of this case.”

“Yes, sir, I’d like that.” As Gilley remained silent, I added, “You can start at any time, sir.”

“I believe I will, thank you, Ms. Hawkes.”

The man who melted out of the shadows at the far corner of Gilley’s office was not just handsome—he was ridiculously so. I took a moment to study the angular, aesthetic face with its slash of cheekbones and full, sculpted lips. Blue-black hair, thick and full, swept back from a high forehead to fall just below the collar of the simple white shirt he wore. The eyes, however, were what commanded my attention. They were black as onyx stones, and shone with an intensity, a power, I’d run across once or twice in my lifetime.

He approached, held out his hand. I took it. His grip was sure and strong, and in a very unexpected gesture, lifted my palm to his lips and kissed it. I started slightly. I’d expected an icy-cold touch, not this warm, tingly one. Odd. The man had vampire written all over him.

He released my hand and took a step back, made a low bow. “Cole St. John, Senior Special Forces Agent, Ms. Hawkes. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Gilley smiled. “Cole is one of the top agents, Morgan. He comes from a long line of Inheritor Special Agents.”

Ah, an Inheritor vampire. Well, now I understood the warm touch. Inheritors were more human than most humans—except for a few small quirks, like an occasional thirst for blood or being able to live for centuries.

“Cole’s great-grandfather was one of the founders of the Special Service Forces,” Gilley continued. “Many would consider it an honor to work with him.”

“Really?” I let my gaze rove over the muscular body. “Too bad I’m not many.”

His eyes flashed, a spark of red beneath the black. I caught a glimpse of sharp, overlong incisors before the lips clamped together into a straight line.

So he’s short-tempered too.
Good to know
.

“They warned me of your ability for negative sarcasm,” he said in an even tone. “A pity your ability couldn’t keep them from bouncing you off Homicide, now, isn’t it?”

I drew a breath. “Some qualities can be vastly underappreciated. And just to keep the record straight, I wasn’t ‘bounced off’. I resigned.”

“I stand corrected. My apologies.” He made a mock bow. “We‘ll discuss your various areas of expertise some other time.” He tapped at the large gold watch on his right wrist. If it wasn’t a Rolex, I’d eat his shirt. “We should get down to the business at hand.”

I drew a deep breath. 
Easy, now.
Don’t blow this
. “Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry.”

“So,” he eased himself into the chair next to me. “How much do you know about this case?”

“Just what I’ve read in the papers,” I responded. “Three women, all found dead within a ten-mile radius of each other within the last three weeks. Captain Gilley told me they were all witches.”

Cole shot Gilley a puzzled glance. “You didn’t fill her in on the rest?”

Gilley shook his head. “The Commissioner said it would probably be best if you did so, Cole.”

Cole smiled. “Conrad always did like to defer nasty details to me.”

I frowned. He was on a first name basis with the Commissioner, as well. Considering the family connection, it came as no big surprise. “Nasty details?” I asked.

Cole faced me. Those black eyes seemed to bore into me, through me, almost as if he could see into my very soul. I tried to suppress a shudder, failed.

He quirked one eyebrow. “You needn’t be nervous, Ms. Hawkes. I’ve no intention of dazzling you with my glamour.”

I leaned back in the chair, balled one hand into a fist. “What a relief. You mistake nervousness for impatience, Agent St. John. Captain Gilley said certain talents of mine might prove useful on this case. I’m curious—what talents are those? My abilities to commune with the departed, to see onto the next plane? You wish for me to see if I can contact the spirits of the dead women, find out who killed them?” I shook my head. “Unless their souls are trapped between planes, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I do have some psychic abilities, but I’m not a medium, you see, and—“

“Yes, I’m aware you’re a ghost whisperer.” Cole slid Gilley an eyeroll. “Does she always jump to conclusions so, Gilley? That could be a detriment.”

Gilley tapped his pencil against his palm. “No, she’s usually quite level-headed. Good in emergency situations.”

Cole glanced at me, then back at Gilley. “Except for once,” he said softly.

“Hey, hey,” I leaned forward, banged my fist on the side of Gilley’s desk. “I’m sitting right here, you know. You don’t have to talk about me as if I’m not in the room.”

Cole’s lips quirked into a half-smile. It gave him a devilishly wicked appearance, almost…sexy. As soon as the thought entered my brain, I wanted to slap myself silly.

Holy Hell.
Where did that come from, girl?

There could be no mistaking the amused glint in his eye. I shifted again on the chair. Inheritors, among other things, had incredible mind-melding powers. One had to keep their thoughts constantly on guard when around them. I cast him a quick glance. Had he read my mind?

He rose, leaned over my chair. “What do you think?” he whispered in my ear. He straightened and stood just off to my left, arms folded across his muscular chest. I turned slightly and looked up at him.

“I think you’re invading my privacy. I’d hope
if
we work together, you’d respect it.”

He chuckled. “Respect is something which must be earned, Ms. Hawkes. Did no one ever tell you so?”

“Of course. It works both ways, did no one ever tell you?” I shot back.

He crossed the room to the water cooler, filled a cup, took a sip. “Point well taken. You wish to know the details of the case? Very well. Let’s get to it.

“We found the first victim, Rose Dupree, in her flat about a mile away from
Central
City
University
campus and the second, Charlene McCall, in
City
Park
, which is about a mile south of the University. Our last young lady, Sunny Addams, reposed facedown in
Halo
Park
, which adjoins—“

“The University,” I finished. “I can see a pattern here. Were the girls students?”

“Yes, but not full time. They were all in the University’s Entrée program.”

I frowned. “Entrée program? I’m not familiar with it.”

“It’s a program where you can take courses that appeal, without going for an actual degree. The credits you accumulate, however, are stored and will count if one does decide to complete their further education within a ten-year timeframe.”

“I see.”

Cole trained his gaze on me again. “You went to the University for two semesters, I believe.”

“Yes.”

One perfectly shaped eyebrow rose. “I hope it’s not infringing on your privacy if I ask why you never finished? Did you lose interest in higher education?”

“Not at all. As I’m sure you’re aware, I dropped out to attend the
PSI
Academy
. I completed all the special training courses necessary for my badge there.”

“A remarkable student,” Gilley nodded. “Straight A’s all three semesters.”

I faced Cole squarely. “Just so you know, I have the utmost respect for higher education. I’ve considered going back to school and getting a degree.”

“Really. What’s stopped you?”

I shook my head. “Life, for one thing.”

“Ah—understandable.” He glided over to my chair, put his hands on both arms, leaned over me. “I’ve no doubt you’d make a remarkable student. You might even graduate cum laude, if you really applied yourself.”

I twisted away from him. “Why all this interest in higher education, if I may ask?”

Cole leaned forward. “How would you feel about going back to school?”

I looked at him, then slid my gaze to Gilley. “Is that the undercover portion of the assignment?” At Gilley’s brief nod, I turned back to Cole. “You think someone at the University is involved?”

Those startlingly black eyes narrowed to almost slits. “Gilley told you the women were all witches,” he continued, ignoring my question. “Rose and Sunny were Hedge Witches; Charlaine belonged to the Stratton Coven, long known as Disciples of Lucifer.”

“Interesting,” I commented. “A mix of Wiccan and Satanic witches.”

“Yes. And that’s not all.” As Cole’s head dipped closer to me, I caught a whiff of musk. The scent was stirring. Intoxicating, actually.

Whoa, girl.
Chill the hormones and focus.

“The press, naturally, has been all over these killings. We managed to keep the fact the women were witches from them, along with some other information.”

I chuckled. “That couldn’t have been easy. I’m acquainted with some of the reporters on the
Central City Sun
. You want to talk about bloodsuckers? They’ve got you vamps beat by a mile.”

He smiled at my thin attempt at a joke. “We did not reveal the fact each girl had a different body part missing.”

My head jerked up. “What?”

“Rose’s left hand was severed at the wrist. Sunny’s left ear was gone, and Charlaine was missing her…nose.”

I frowned. “Odd. So, what do you make of it?”

Cole lifted those broad shoulders in a shrug. “Symbolism, perhaps.”

I tapped the arm of my chair with one nail. “Serial killers often garner trophies from their victims,” I said thoughtfully. “This could be the work of one.”

Cole rubbed his chin with his forefinger. “Perhaps. Or it could be…something else. Something far more sinister.”

The hairs at the back of my neck pricked. I reached my hand back to rub at the area. “What’s more sinister than a whacko serial killer?”

He pinned me with his black stare. “Some voodoo
bokor
s cast spells which involve using body parts from victims. It’s my understanding you have more than a passing familiarity with such things, don’t you, Ms. Hawkes?”

A thin sheen of sweat spread over my palms. I rubbed them self-consciously on my skirt. “Go to Hell,” I growled.

“Now, now, don’t be modest,” Cole clucked his tongue. “You had to realize I would know about your rather, ah, checkered past, shall we say? Your personal connection to voodoo.”

I snapped my head around to Gilley. “I thought the Board sealed my file.”

Cole reached out, crooked his finger under my chin, and turned me to face him. “Morgan, Morgan, my dear, you haven’t been paying attention. Nothing about your past is sacred to the Special Forces, let alone to an Inheritor.”

I jerked my chin away and glared at him. “Big invasion of privacy,
St. John
. Really, really big.”

“If you want to work this case, as I’ve said, nothing about you is sacred. Your life, actually, is pretty much an open book.” Cole spread his beautifully shaped hands. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of your heritage—or your knowledge of juju.”

I felt my back stiffen and my throat begin to dry. I slanted a glance in Gilley’s direction. He sat staring at the opposite wall, carefully away from me.
Traitor
.

I cleared my throat. “Unfortunately, I’m sadly lacking in the knowledge area. If you truly know about my past, you should know that.”

Cole touched my arm. I felt something like an electric shock course through me. “One failed attempt does not a failure make.”

I rose, plucking at the hem of my skirt. “It did in my case.”

His fingers pressed into my shoulder. “Sit down, Morgan. I haven’t finished.”

I glared at him. “I have.”

He returned my stare. “Please give me the courtesy of hearing the rest of it.”

I bit my lip, then sank back into the chair. “Fine. So what you’re saying is, you believe these killings have some sort of root in voodoo? What makes you think so, might I ask?”

Cole pulled a small packet from his jacket pocket and tossed it on Gilley’s desk. “Those. Have a look.”

I picked up the packet, opened it. Inside were several five by seven color photographs. Some depicted the bodies of young girls, most presumably the murder victims. Others were of objects I recognized with a sort of sickening certainty.