shadows of salem 01 - shadow born (10 page)

“I’ll try that,” Shelley said, though she didn’t sound very hopeful, “but in the meanwhile, is there any way you could try and find out what he’s been up to? Like, maybe follow him around and see if you can catch him doing any gang-related activity?”

I lifted an eyebrow. “You’d probably be better suited hiring a PI for that.”

“I would, but I don’t have the money.” Shelley looked up at me, her dark eyes pleading. “Please, Detective. I need to find out what my son’s gotten into before it gets him killed.”

Salem was a small town—finding out the names of the local gangs would be simple, and compared to what I’d dealt with in Chicago, would be small time. It probably wouldn’t take a whole lot of time to figure out what Jason had tangled himself up in.

“All right.” I sighed a little. “I’ll look into it.”

“Thank you.” Shelley flung her arms around me. “Thank you so much.” She dug out a picture of him from her pocket, then handed it to me. “If you need anything else, let me know.”

I walked her out to her car, which she’d parallel-parked by the curb in front of my building. As I watched her drive off, I mused over what she’d told me…and also what she hadn’t.

She’d broken eye contact when telling me about her ex’s death, and while she might not have been lying, I had a feeling there was more to the story. And then there was still the matter of that vision I’d had when her ring had touched me. She’d been mixed up with vampires at some point, and that made me wonder if her son was involved with something as run-of-the-mill as a human gang, or with something more sinister.

Bitter wind nipped at my cheeks and bare arms, and I tilted my head toward the stiff breeze. Most people shied away from cold, but I loved it. There was something so invigorating about an icy wind. But I only allowed myself a moment before I headed up the stairs and back into the apartment—after all, I still had dinner cooking.

My stomach rumbled at the scent of hot marinara sauce, and I headed toward the stove to turn it off before it burned. But before I’d made it two steps, an unseen force knocked me back. Hard.

I stumbled, tripping over my own heels, then fell into the side table next to my couch. Pain radiated up my back as the new vase I’d bought crashed to the floor, and I rolled to the side, working to get my feet under me while simultaneously trying to find my attacker. That same unseen force gripped me by the throat, and I choked and sputtered, grasping at fingers that weren’t there. Fear escalated to panic as the force
lifted
me off the ground, and I kicked out, feet dangling uselessly above the carpet.

The air around me blurred, and the next thing I knew, I was in my bathroom. The shower curtain was ripped aside, and I slammed into my tub with so much force that my head rattled.

I heard the
thunk
of the stopper being pushed into the drain, and I yelped as cold water jetted out of the faucet on full blast. I thrashed around, trying to get up, but something heavy was pinning me to the tub, and I couldn’t move more than a few inches. Soon the water was up to my collarbone, and I began to panic. It was only a matter of time before it rose above my head.

I was going to drown.

CHAPTER 11

^“
H
elp!” I shrieked, thrashing against the unseen force pinning me against the rapidly-filling tub. “Someone, please help!”

God, please let these paper-thin apartment walls be good for something
!

Tears sprang to my eyes as the icy water brushed my jawbone. Whether it was the violent rush of the tub filling or the next-door neighbor’s blaring country music, nobody could hear me scream. Or maybe they didn’t care, didn’t want to get involved.

I was going to die here.

Not at the hand of a vampire, or a crazed drug addict, or a bloodthirsty gang member…but by drowning in my own goddamn bathtub because some ghost—or otherwise unseen force—had it in for me.

“No!” I growled as anger bubbled up inside me. I wasn’t going out like this. I wasn’t! There had to be something I could do to get this stupid spirit off me.

“Banishing evil spirits takes a level of skill that cannot be taught in a single conversation.”
Father James’s words came back to me.
“However, if you should run across one, a little prayer and faith will go a long way. Simply focus all your willpower and shout, “
Capsicum annuum!”
as loudly as you can. You have to really mean it, but if you do it right, you should render the wraith immobile.
”

A wraith. That had to be it.

“
Capsicum annuum
!” I screamed, focusing all my effort and energy toward the ghost.

My desperate shout echoed off the tile walls, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then the temperature in the room plunged so sharply I was amazed the water didn’t turn to ice. The pressure on my chest dissipated, and a glowing blue figure coalesced in the air above my abdomen.

My scream faded into silence as the two of us stared at each other in shock.

The wraith was…not what I expected. She was a woman in her early twenties, wearing full colonial garb: a floral-printed gown with a petticoat and sleeveless ruffles. A matching hat was perched on her head. She would have looked like she was dressed for an outing with friends, if not for the fact that half of her lovely face had been burned away.

I shuddered at the way her left eye stared at me; the eyelids had been burned off, as well as much of the skin on her cheeks, giving me a glimpse of the bone and sinew beneath. I didn’t know why her eyes were bugging out, though—
I
was the one who’d been attacked.

“What the fuck are you?” I demanded.

Those wide eyes blinked now—or at least the right one did. The woman reached up to touch the unmarred side of her face. “I…I’m a ghost?”

“Yeah, no shit.” My body was still trembling with fear, but I forced myself to get over it. The ghost wasn’t attacking me anymore, and I needed to get out of this damned tub and into dry clothes. Cold was one thing, but I
hated
being wet.

I levered myself out of the tub, which was no easy feat, and dripped icy water on my navy blue bathroom floor mat. The back of my head was throbbing from its impromptu encounter with the tub, my sodden clothes weighed me down, and my silver hair plastered against my scalp and face. Not wanting to track puddles all over the new carpet, I shed my clothing on the bathroom floor and trudged into my bedroom stark-naked to grab something clean and dry to wear.

To my irritation, the ghost-woman followed me, hovering by my bed as I rummaged through my closet. “Do you mind?” I snapped irritably as I shoved my legs into a pair of underwear. “I’m not exactly decent.”

“I’m not looking,” the ghost said, her eyes averted to the ground.

“Well, what
are
you doing?” I hooked on a bra, then tugged a black sweater over my head. I grimaced as my hair soaked the back of my sweater, and quickly wrapped my silver strands in a bath towel. “Waiting for another opportunity?”

“No,” the ghost said sadly. “You’ve stripped me of my corporeal form. I can’t touch you now.”

The stench of burning sauce caught my nostrils and derailed my train of thought.

“Fuck!”

Abandoning my questions, I dashed out of the room and went to turn off the stove before my apartment caught fire. The ghost perched herself on the counter and watched as I scavenged what sauce I could and finished cleaning up. I gritted my teeth as she began whistling the tune to Greensleeves off-key and swinging her legs back and forth.

“If you’re going to hang around here,” I growled, “at least tell me something useful. Who are you, and where did you come from?”

“My name is Celia Johnson.” The leg swinging stopped. “I’m from here, Salem. In fact, the house I used to live in stood just a few blocks from here before they tore it down and built a shopping area there. A butcher’s shop sits where my house used to be, and I usually haunt that.”

“Interesting.” I snapped the lid onto a piece of tupperware, then glanced up at her. “What made you decide to leave the butcher’s shop?”

“Oh, well, I’ve stayed at the shop for so long because it’s where I died. I was cooking dinner in the backyard, and my stepmother knocked me into the fire pit.” An ugly look crossed Celia’s face as she reached up to touch her burned skin. “I got vengeance on her, of course, but I guess it wasn’t enough because I’m still trapped on this plain. But the man who came to talk to me yesterday said that if I killed you, I could move on.” Her face brightened momentarily before she sank back into a sulk. “Except now I can’t anymore.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I held up a hand, my head spinning as I tried to process what she’d just told me. “Back up a second. You said that a man sent you to kill me? Who?”

Celia opened her mouth to speak, then shrieked as flames sprang up around her body. I jumped back with a cry of my own, grabbing for the fire extinguisher. But even as I swung the heavy red canister around, the flames vanished, and Celia along with them.

Breathing heavily, I set the canister down, then carefully approached the counter. A white rose bouquet rested exactly where Celia’s ghostly butt had been perched. There was no yellow card this time, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out where they’d come from.

I crushed the fragrant blossoms in my hand, then tossed them into the trash before storming away to grab my jacket. I was done with this. It was time I got my hands on Maddock Tremaine and dealt with him once and for all.

After my near-death experience in the bathtub, I needed to get out of my apartment for a little. Yeah, so the spell Father James gave me had worked, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still feeling the aftershocks from my encounter. Sitting around in my apartment wasn’t going to get me anywhere, so I took my laptop and made a beeline for the nearest coffee shop so I could do some more digging into Maddock Tremaine.

I was only a block away from the coffee shop when I caught sight of a tall, lanky teenager coming out of a vape shop across the street. He was dressed from head-to-toe in black, his hair dyed to match, and he had a lip piercing, but I still recognized him from the photo Shelley had given me.

Well, well, Jason Williams. Let’s see what you’re up to that’s got your mother so worried.

I hefted my laptop bag a little higher on my shoulder, then crossed the street so I could follow him. I kept a cautious distance, although it wasn’t really necessary—with his earbuds jammed into his ears, his shoulders hunched from the cold, and his moody eyes downcast, he was too wrapped up in his own little world to notice me. I pulled a beanie out from my jacket pocket and tucked my damp silver hair beneath it so I wouldn’t draw attention to myself, then followed him eastward for a couple more blocks.

Soon we were in downtown Salem, just a few blocks from Essex Street, in the same part of town where Maddock’s club was. I frowned, wondering what he was looking for. Was he headed into one of the witch shops? Had he gotten himself mixed up in something occult?

The answer became clear when Jason crossed the street to where a non-descript, but expensive-looking black sedan idled. The windows were tinted, so I couldn’t see who or what was inside, but when the back door opened and Jason climbed in, I thought I caught the glitter of a pricey cufflink.

He’s definitely not hanging out with a local gang,
I thought as I started across the street to stop him.

A large hand curled around my shoulder, fingers digging in harshly, and I was unceremoniously yanked back onto the sidewalk. Heart pounding, I grabbed my gun as my assailant spun me around, then froze as I came face-to-face with a thunderous-looking Maddock Tremaine.

“Get in,” he growled, jerking his thumb toward a shiny silver BMW parked on the curb just a few feet away. “We need to talk.”

CHAPTER 12

I
probably should have been pissed, or scared, or some combination thereof. After all, I was smack-dab in the middle of a confrontation with a guy who’d tried to have me killed. Twice. Within the last twenty-four hours.

Instead, I burst out laughing.

“I dinnae see what’s so funny,” Maddock said tightly. A muscle in his jaw twitched as I only laughed harder. “Are ye suffering from hysteria, Detective Chandler? Because if so, ye might want to holster that gun before you shoot yer own leg off.”

“I’m not suffering from hysteria.” I chuckled, straightening up, and leveled the barrel of my gun at his chest. It only had regular bullets, but I was willing to bet they’d still hurt Maddock, whatever he was. “I just think it’s funny that you think I’m stupid enough to get into a vehicle with you after you tried to have me killed. Twice. Now get on your knees and put your hands behind your head. You’re under arrest for attempted murder.”

Maddock’s eyes narrowed. “I haven’t tried to kill ye, Detective. If I had, ye’d be dead.”

I rolled my eyes. “Save that cliché for someone who hasn’t heard it.” I clicked off the safety and gave him my best glare. “I will shoot you if I have to.”