Cait wrinkled her nose. “Not sure how knowing that will be helpful, and I certainly didn’t want that picture in my mind. What did your Internet search turn up?”
Jason leaned forward. “There are more bodies to be found. That’s a certainty. The Deluxe has been the center of several missing persons investigations, going back to the early eighties. But there’s never been a single shred of evidence found. Not until they dug Sylvia out of the wall.
“And our ol’ bud, Oscar Reyes?” Jason snorted. “He’s been busted a couple of times for battery. He’s not shy about using his fists when someone pisses him off. Last time he was convicted of beating up a girlfriend. Another ex-hooker. Guess he thinks if he saves them, they’re his to treat however he pleases.”
“Nice guy,” Sam murmured. “So it’s possible Oscar might have something to do with Sylvia’s death. But I can’t see him being the incubus.”
Cait turned to meet Sam’s worried gaze. “But he might have met him. Maybe he’s the one who put the incubus onto Sylvia. If we can figure out the incubus’s hunting grounds, we can figure out whether Oscar had a hand in all this.”
Sam nodded, running a hand over his chin.
Cait heard the chafe of his five o’clock shadow. Sexy. Maybe her expression had turned dreamy because Sam’s gaze sparkled as he continued.
“I’m sure Leland would appreciate having someone human to pin this on.”
Cait blew out a deep breath and leaned back against the leather-upholstered seat. “I was so hoping it was a completely demon thing. Oscar really gives me the creeps.”
Both men gave her disbelieving stares.
“Yeah, I said it. Oscar’s a sleazebag. He hired us to find proof of his wife’s infidelity when he had it right in his hands. He’s the kind of guy who would take it out on her flesh himself—unless he found an easier way of disposing of her. Something more painful. And note this,” she said tapping the table for emphasis, “we haven’t heard a word from him since this all went down. I would have thought a grieving husband would be on the phone that night to hear what we found out.”
Sam nodded, his gaze turning to the window as though lost in thought. “He already knew she’d be dead.” He shook his head, his lips tightening. “I’ll have Oscar hauled in for questioning in the morning.”
“You need to do the questioning,” Cait said, turning her body toward Sam. “Your homicide buddies won’t have a clue what to ask. Can you handle it on your own?”
He grunted and slouched in the chair. “You think I don’t know how to conduct an interrogation?”
“It’s not that. I want to get with the Reel PIs guys as soon as possible. Since I’m Teflon-coated now, you don’t have to worry about me getting zapped.”
“And being pulled back in time and pushed into a wall isn’t something to worry about?”
She cocked her head. “I don’t think I’ll be that vulnerable again.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Careful. Jason’s gonna think you’re the one who wears the cape.”
“Which would put you in the black skirt,” she said, smiling.
The sound of a throat clearing beside them had all heads turning.
Pauly stood beside them, grinning. “I don’t wanna know.” He slid two large plates of fish with fries in front of Sam and Cait.
“Want some?” Cait said to Jason as she stuffed a fry into her mouth, savoring the crisp potato and its saltiness. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was.
“I don’t want to lose a finger.”
She snagged the malt vinegar from Pauly’s tray before he had a chance to offer it.
“Douse your food with that?” Jason said, his head shaking as he watched her mill into her food. “Sam won’t be kissing you anytime soon.”
She waggled her eyebrows. “I’ll make it worth the effort.”
Pauly and Jason both groaned, and then laughed. Sam chuckled and tucked into his food.
“Gonna eat all your fries?” she asked him, blinking her eyelashes.
“Course not, honey.”
“Aw,” Jason moaned with a shake of his head. “Another one bites the dust.”
Back at her apartment, Cait listened to the sound of the shower starting in the distance before moving a chair to the closet and climbing up to root into the top shelf. She pulled down the leather-bound book and carried it to the kitchen table where she had her ingredients spread before her.
Rubbing a finger across the engraving of a pentagram on the front cover, she drew a deep, calming breath. The book was hers now. Not her mama’s. Not any of the witches in its long past.
Just like the rose quartz ball handed down the generations, the book came with mystical energy that transferred ownership to the next with a touch. The first time she’d sat at this table and read through the spells and stories her predecessors shared, she’d felt as though a part of their souls mingled with her own.
Not that she was suddenly as wise as Yoda. She was still herself, but with knowledge that was inborn and unawakened until she’d accepted the gift.
It was sudden knowledge she hadn’t mentioned to Sam because he wouldn’t understand. At times like these, when she was feeling reflective, she wished she had a friend in the magical world to talk to. Morin would have been the perfect choice if he hadn’t turned out to be no friend at all.
Maybe she was being harsh and more than a little bitter about how things had gone down. But the fact was her mother died because she’d wanted to sever both of their unnatural attractions for the man. Both she and Lorene had been seduced.
He’d played the soulful mentor, the reluctant lover, all in hopes of drawing her into his life and teaching her just enough to free him. Cait felt shame over falling for his act.
Her mother had figured out Morin’s motives but really should have told her. Lorene had forbidden a lust- addled seventeen-year-old girl from seeing a man Cait believed was her romantic destiny. Then Lorene had attempted a spell to break the bonds, only to accidentally poison herself in the process.
Out of grief and guilt, Cait had shunned Morin and magic. Turned her back on Celeste as well, because she’d wanted nothing of her old life. Instead, she’d submersed herself in her father’s, becoming a cop. Something she’d been good at until the voices got the best of her and she’d begun to drink to quiet them. Maybe they’d driven her a little crazy.
But she was back now. Ready to embrace the part of herself she’d so long denied.
She turned the pages until she found the summoning spell her mother had recorded all those years ago, after she’d attempted one last reunion with Cait’s father.
Alcohol, hell.
Cait bit the side of her lip and eyed the bathroom door, heard the water still trickling down, and hurried to the broom closet. At the bottom, behind the mop pail, she pulled out a small bottle of Glenfiddich scotch. One Sam had never found when he’d cleaned out all the booze.
She rushed to the table and tipped the bottle, splashing good scotch into her mother’s conjuring chalice. Back to the closet, she quickly hid the bottle, stopped to light incense on the counter to mask the odor, and then added the other ingredients.
The smell that rose as she swirled her mother’s athame nearly had Cait bending to put her nose against the rim to breathe it in. The scent was beyond enticing.
Delicious. Bracing. Pulling memories from the farthest corners of her mind of a time when her mother had
