shadows of salem 01 - shadow born (21 page)

“Of course,” I said gently, squashing the urgency that wanted to seep into my voice. I needed Shelley to be calm, or she would panic and perhaps forget details. A focused witness was a good witness. “I’m not here to judge. Just here to find your son.”

“I’m guessing, by your lack of shock and the casual way you speak about vampires, that you are acquainted with the supernatural world?”

“Chicago is infested with vampires, so yeah. I know a thing or two.”

Shelley smiled a little. “I imagine you do.” Her face turned sober again. “I grew up in New Orleans, which is full of voodoo practitioners and witches, among other things. My best friend’s mother was a voodoo priestess, so I knew more than the average person, even though I’ve no ability of my own.”

“Okay.” I nodded encouragingly. “So, because of your voodoo friend, you somehow got mixed up with vampires?”

“Not exactly.” Shelley took a breath, digging her fingernails into the couch cushions. “My husband, Daniel, was abusive. Not in the beginning of our relationship, of course—he was very sweet and attentive. But after we got married…well, it was just mental at first, but a year after Jason was born, it started getting physical. He would get me drunk before he hit me, so that he could always claim to the police that I just fell and hit my head or that I was just making things up.” Her voice shook now. “I stuck it out for my son…but when I got pregnant with my second child, one bad night made me fear for my unborn child’s life. I realized I didn’t want my kids to have a violent, manipulative drunk for a role model, or for him to one day turn on them the way he did on me.”

“And so you tried to leave.”

“And so I tried to leave.” Shelley nodded slowly. “But it wasn’t easy. Daniel caught me trying to escape and threatened to kill me. He told me that the only way I was leaving him was in a body bag.” More tears came, but these were slow, silent, the kind that quietly bled from your soul rather than gushing like a waterfall. “I knew that the only way I was going to get rid of him, was by…you know…getting rid of him.”

I slammed down on the shock that exploded in my chest. “Are you saying that you put a hit out on your ex-husband?”

“What would you have done in my position?” she snapped, her voice vibrating with anger and grief. Her eyes flashed as she jerked away from me. “My husband had already established a pattern of insanity on my part with the cops by getting them to think I was a crazy drunk, and I knew they’d be more likely to lock me up in the psychiatric ward than prosecute my husband if I came to them and told them that he’d threatened my life. The only way to keep myself safe—to keep my children safe—was to get rid of him.”

“All right.” I let out a breath. “All right.” How could I possibly argue with her logic? I believed in the law, but I certainly sidestepped it every time I staked a vampire. Shelley’s husband might not have been a supernatural, but there was no denying that he
was
a monster, and she’d done what, in her mind, she felt she had to.

“So how did you kill him?”

Shelley flinched at the word ‘kill.’ “I hired a vampire to do it,” she whispered.

Jesus.
“Why a vampire? Why not a normal hit man?”

Shelley let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Is there really a difference? They’re both monsters. And just as vampires run the underground in your home city, so they do in mine. They have their hands in all sorts of criminal enterprises, including assassination. So I hired one of them, then I packed up my life, my children, and moved to Salem.”

I was silent for a moment as I processed this. By law, I was technically supposed to report it, but thankfully, her story would sound ridiculous enough to most that there would be little point. There likely wasn’t any evidence to follow anyway, and it was a waste of my time and police time when there were bigger things to worry about.

“I’m guessing Tyler wasn’t born yet?” I finally asked.

“I was only a few months along.” Shelley smiled down at the monitor again, which was still nestled in her lap. “It’s hard, being a single mother, but at least he’s free of his father’s influence.”

“And how does Jason feel about the fact his father’s gone?”

Shelley’s eyes filled with tears again. “He hates me for it,” she whispered. “He found out a year after it had been done, and he’s never forgiven me. Daniel was never physically abusive to Jason, but he manipulated him, convinced him just like the police officers that I was crazy, unbalanced.”

“I’m sorry.” I placed a hand on her shoulder, gave her a sympathetic squeeze. I couldn’t imagine how horrible it must have been for her, to have her husband turn her child against her. It seemed like, even in death, the bastard was still hurting her.

“Anyway, I think that Jason believes his father is still alive,” Shelley continued. “That, instead of killing him, the vampire I’d hired simply turned Daniel and added him to his coterie.” Shelley shook her head. “The assassin showed me the body himself—he’d killed him with a clean slash to the throat, not by draining his blood. But I think…oh, I think that Jason believes that if he can convince a vampire to turn him, that he can rejoin his father, and be free of me.” She broke down into sobs now, burying her face in her hands. “My son wants to turn himself into an evil monster. And it’s my fault.”

“No,”
I said fiercely, and this time I wrapped my arms around her in a tight hug and held her close. “No, Shelley. Don’t do this to yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

“B-but if I hadn’t killed his father—”

“Then he would have turned your son into a different kind of monster.” Shelley flinched, but I pressed on ruthlessly. “This isn’t what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. Your husband was turning Jason into a carbon copy of himself, and the best thing you could have done was get him away from that kind of influence. The fact that Jason is still following in his father’s footsteps is
Daniel’s
fault, not yours.”

Shelley said nothing for a long moment, simply turning her face into her hands and breathing. Eventually, she raised her head, turning to stare at me with those red-rimmed eyes.

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is,” she whispered. “He’s going to die anyway, isn’t he? They’re going to turn him, and there’s nothing I can do.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think the vampires took him.”

Shelley’s eyes widened. “You don’t?” Hope flared in her eyes. “But you said a gang—”

“Yes, but not vampires. Witches.”

“Witches?” Confusion scrunched Shelley’s features. “What do witches want with my son?”

I let out a breath. “I’m not really sure,” I admitted. “They’ve been kidnapping supernaturals left and right the last couple of weeks, but this is the first human they’ve taken. The good news is, no one who’s been kidnapped has turned up dead, so there’s a good chance we can recover your son.”

I left out the part about the woman who’d been killed because she hadn’t been kidnapped first, and Shelley deserved a little bit of hope. Besides, there was no point in adding to her worries.

Shelley let out a half-laugh. “Is it strange that I’m relieved? I shouldn’t be, because witches can be just as ruthless as vampires, and I have no idea what they’re doing to him, but—” She stopped, shook her head. “I’m just so glad it’s not vampires.”

I smiled a little. “It’s not strange, and I’m glad to bring you some comfort.” I stood, adjusting my jacket and making sure my weapons were where they should be. “Take care of Tyler, Shelley, and get some sleep. I’m going to do some more digging, see if I can find out exactly where the witches are keeping Jason. And then I’ll bring him back to you.”

“Are you sure?” Shelley shot to her feet, anxious again. “Is there anything I can do? There must be something—”

“Shelley.” I laid a hand on her shoulder. “I know you want to help, but the best thing you can do is stay here and make sure your other son stays safe. I’ll update you as soon as I know more.”

“Thank you.” She threw her arms around me. “Thank you so much for agreeing to help. For promising to bring him back. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll keep you posted.”

I made a beeline for my car, then opened up the Maps app and plugged in an address. I needed to find out more about the Onyx Order from someone who was an expert in witches.

And I knew just the place to start.

CHAPTER 22

T
en minutes later, I was standing on the sidewalk across from Crow Haven Corner, the oldest witch shop in Salem. Or so the tourism guide had told me when I’d been researching the city.

I stared dubiously at the three story barn-house building, which had been painted black and had purple signs with yellow moons and bats hanging over the windows and entrance.

It didn’t look like anything more than another tourist trap, but I
had
felt a tingle of magic when I’d passed by this place a few days ago, so it was possible somebody inside knew something.

If not, I supposed I could go to another witch shop. There were at least three others that I’d passed on the way here, and maybe even more that I didn’t know about. Probably most of these people weren’t ‘true witches’, as Maddock had called them, but there was probably at least one.

So I headed up the steps and inside. Directly in front of me was a dark purple staircase that headed directly upstairs, but to my right was an open doorway that looked like it led into the shop, so I veered in that direction instead.

“Welcome to Crow Haven Corner, Salem’s oldest witch shop,” the woman behind the counter said with a small smile. She was in her late twenties and looked normal-enough with her glasses, white blouse, and black jeans. The only thing different about her was her dyed bluish-silver hair. “May I be of any help?”

I glanced around the shop. Strange, colorful balls dangled from the ceiling, incense hung thick and sweet in the air, and the tables and shelves were laden with candles, herbs, dolls, and all kinds of supernatural-looking trinkets that probably did absolutely nothing. Was I really on the right track here?

Stop being so skeptical. You’re not going get anything done like this.

“I’m Detective Brooke Chandler.” I stuck out my hand with a smile. “I’m doing a little bit of research in connection with a case I’m working on, and I was hoping for a few minutes of your time.”

“Sure.” The woman’s eyes widened a little, and she leaned forward, bracing her forearms on the glass display case. Beneath it lay a variety of sparkly jewelry and decorations. “What can I do for you?

“I was just wondering if you knew anything about this symbol.” I pulled a notebook from my inside pocket, then flipped it open to the drawing of the Onyx Order symbol I’d hastily sketched. “I’ve been running into it a lot in my investigation, and evidence suggests it has to do with witches.”

The woman’s eyebrows shot up.

“Or at least a group of teens that think they’re witches,” I added hastily.

“That’s so weird,” the woman said, her throaty voice growing hushed as she studied the symbol. “I don’t think any of the local covens use this symbol. I could ask our owner if she’s seen it before, though. She’s way more knowledgeable about the different covens around here than I am.” Her dark grey eyes flicked up to me, round with concern. “What kind of investigations are you running? I don’t know all the covens around here, but the ones I do know would never do anything dangerous or try to hurt our community. We only hex people who are trying to harm others and disturb the natural order of things. Our main rule is to do no harm, and we abide by that very strongly.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t give out any particulars at this time.” I nudged the book at her again. “Are you sure you’ve never seen this symbol before? It doesn’t have to be in connection with a coven. It could have been in a book somewhere.”

The woman studied it again, then shook her head. “I really should ask the owner,” she said. “If you want, I can take a picture of this and show it to her. Maybe she’ll have better answers.”

“That would be great.” I let her use her phone to take a picture of my sketch, then dug out a card and handed it to her. “Please have her call me if she knows anything.”

“I will. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help, but please feel free to look around the shop while you’re here. If you have any questions about the items, I’d be more than happy to help.”

“Thanks.”

I moved off, leaving room for an eager customer to come up and ask questions about an item she was holding that looked suspiciously like a wand. Sticking my hands in my pockets, I wandered around the shop and considered my next move.

I could try the public library,
I mused. Maybe it was still open, and I could ask if they had any old books on Salem’s witchcraft history that I could hunt through for mention of the Onyx Order. Failing that, there was Google, but I wasn’t sure how much I would find.

Pulling out my phone, I plugged in the term “Onyx Order.” The first ten search results were all about Castlevania. Ugh. I tried “Onyx Order Witches” and got pages regarding the use of crystals and other gemstones in pagan rituals.

Yeah. This wasn’t going to be easy.

I pulled out the notepad again and stared at the symbol. I might try doing a Google image search or something when I got home, to see if I could find anything in connection with it. With any luck, it wouldn’t be a heavy metal band or a role playing group.

“I’ve seen that symbol before,” a quavering voice said.

I glanced up to see an old woman with a cane standing next to me. She wore a black dress with a high collar, and her flyaway grey hair gave her a bit of a wild, unkempt look, like she’d run away from her nursing home and hadn’t been picked up yet.

“Have you?” Reluctantly, I shifted the pad in my hand so she could get a closer look. The vacant look in her pale, almost colorless eyes made me think that she was a little off, but I couldn’t turn down a possible lead.

“Oh, yes.” The woman nodded, smiling blithely. “The Onyx Order. A nasty witch coven with a grudge against vampires.”

I froze. “What?”