blast.”
A moment of silence was Clarissa’s initial response. Sasha flopped back against the pillows when Hunter gave her the eye. It made sense that Clarissa picked up dark energy. Hell… the baron was pissed off, something Were was lurking, there was a killer on the loose, and two Phoenix chicks had torched.
“Just be careful, Sasha,” Clarissa said, strain evident in her tone.
“We will,” Sasha replied, trying to make her voice sound upbeat. But when she clicked off the phone, she just closed her eyes. How did you fake it with a psychic?
One thing was for sure, when Desidera was killed, there was a feral scent and the smell of blood in the basement. If Vampires were involved in it somehow, then it was also possible that Weres were involved- specifically the Werewolves of the remaining Buchanan Broussard clan. Old Buchanan had tried to pull a coup and get his daughter, Dana, to marry Shogun-then send the Werewolves to war against the Shadow Wolves, all the while having a dirty backroom deal going with Shogun’s sister Lei. Not to mention their demon-infected mother. With old man Buchanan, his daughter Dana, plus Shogun’s sister and his traitorous mother all killed in the post- courtroom battle, the Buchanan clan was very likely suspect, to her way of thinking.
Plus, with sorcery and Vampires somehow involved, that would be an interesting alliance. Sasha opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment, clutching her cell phone in her hand. Yeah… What if they could have found a way to mask their scent? She wondered if a nasty coven spell might be able to make a Werewolf smell like something else… and if so, why not make the scent elusive, untraceable, exotic? “Hmmm…”
“You’re going to give yourself a headache this morning,” Hunter said, standing.
“Too late. Already got one,” Sasha said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and then pushing off it to grab her jeans.
She opened her pocket, found the spiral pad in it, and looked at the sigil again. If she hadn’t promised Sir Rodney she wouldn’t get her team involved unless absolutely necessary, she would have Bradley run a check on this. She’d have to loop back with Ethan about it, even though he and Margaret had completely freaked out about it last night. Regardless, there were questions she needed to ask… namely, what specifically did the symbol do?
Sasha glanced at the clock-the digital display said 6:12. Staff wouldn’t be at Ethan’s until ten. That was a lot of time to kill. Sasha looked up when she heard Hunter’s stomach growl all the way across the room.
“Let’s go get some grub… then try to find a Pixie.”
It was no wonder the Pixies and garden Faeries didn’t greet them when they entered the gardens at Chaya. Sasha took one look at Hunter’s five o’clock shadow and surly mood, and if she were one of the wee folk, she would have avoided him, too. But she wasn’t much better-two Shadow Wolves that looked like they’d seen the worst side of the moon.
Sasha trudged forward, undaunted, keeping her voice low and calling out gently. If Penelope worked at the tea salon, then the Pixie staff or garden Faeries would know whoever else she worked with, so they could track that person down. They’d also know who the Pixie was in the photo. Somebody had to know something. But after a moment, Sasha stopped walking.
“I know Pixies and Faeries are unusually shy, but it’s just way too quiet out here.”
Hunter nodded and glanced around. “We have done them no harm and have helped them in the past-why would they hide from us?”
“Listen… nothing,” Sasha said, standing very, very still. “Not even crickets or morning birds.”
On guard, both Shadow Wolves moved slowly toward the small mansion that had been turned into a delicately ornamented teahouse. Sasha motioned with her chin toward a long shadow cast by a weeping cherry tree. At this point, they couldn’t worry about the Fae investigators. There was probable cause to enter Chaya via break-in. Within moments, she and Hunter had entered the shadow, coming out of it inside the shadows within the abandoned salon.
A thin film of dust covered the surfaces of once gleaming wood furniture and privacy screens. The gorgeous hardwood floors had lost their luster and dust sat in the crevices of intricately carved panels. Sasha and Hunter shared a look.
“This place looks like somebody got out of Dodge in a hurry. I don’t get it.”
A small
“I heard the news,” she squeaked. “That is the only reason I am coming forward-you Shadows helped us before, but this is so tragic, just so very wrong!” The Pixie glanced around again. “I’m not even supposed to be here, but I heard you’d come to this place last night… I hoped you’d come here in the early morning.”
Sasha gave Hunter a glance that told him to stay back. The small Pixie was beginning to turn blue-green, her glamour totally faded, which could only mean that she was scared half to death. Large tears slid down her cheeks and Sasha immediately knew this was the Pixie in the photo.
“We’ll help you,” Sasha said in a gentle voice. “But we have to know what’s going on.” She squatted down to bring her gaze more level to that of the small person before her. “What’s your name?”
“Pixie Gretchen,” she said, as two more large, opalescent tears rolled down the bridge of her button nose. She tossed her strawberry-blond curls away from her face and lifted her chin, obviously trying to be strong. “They killed her.”
“Who?” Sasha said carefully.
“Poor Desidera,” the Pixie whispered and then covered her face.
Sasha glanced at Hunter, who remained stoic. “I meant, who killed Desidera?”
“The spell-casters.” Gretchen lowered her palms away from her face.
This time Sasha didn’t just glance at Hunter, she held his gaze for a moment before returning her line of vision to the Pixie. “You mean the Vampires?”
The mention of Vampires made the Pixie dash back and forth within the pool of light for a few seconds.
“They must be the ones stealing our magick-but who knows how they’ve cast such a spell? Our magick has been waning for months. That’s why we’ve been in hiding. Desidera learned something by consorting with them… Penelope said she wasn’t herself since the night before last, and I’ve been waiting here for word… we all have. Then the night moths told the Faeries about Desidera’s flaming… oooohhhh… so horrible!”
Hunter cast a sidelong glance at Sasha.
“When was the last time you spoke to Penelope?” Sasha chose her words carefully, beginning to add up facts in her head as she spoke.
“Yesterday, when she got off from work in the afternoon… She works for Ethan McGregor, you know.” Gretchen looked between Sasha and Hunter. “What have you not told me?”
“When Penelope gets off work at Ethan’s, she comes directly here to work?” Hunter addressed the Pixie in a low, calm rumble, trying to keep his voice modulated.
“She used to… when we were open,” Gretchen said, now beginning to wring her hands. “But now she just comes by regularly to bring us honey and other supplies we need, as a friend. We, the Fae, are very private, and leaning on charity from those outside our community is very difficult indeed. That’s the only reason she started adding full shifts at that
“The Blood Oasis?” Hunter asked as gently as possible.
“Ohhh, that evil, evil place-yes!” The Pixie grabbed her hair with both hands and shook her head. “Penelope was going there too much and Desidera was worried about her, rightfully so. Penelope wanted Desi to dance there with her and I guess she finally gave in… and because the Vampires wanted her to join the club so badly, I think they let her in deeper than they even let Penelope. After that, Desi just wasn’t the same. She told us not to worry; she’d heard something that she had to tell Sir Rodney.” Gretchen bit her lip. “She was trying to help us, trying to be sure our magick would return. It had all come down!”
Sasha hugged herself, new worry roiling in her mind. So, Rodney was also playing games-he wasn’t just going to hook up with a lover; he was there to learn what Desidera had found out. For a moment, Sasha’s heart froze.
