Authors: Delilah Devlin
Sam, not the most perceptive when it came to the feminine mind, honed in on Morin like a tiger stalking prey, as though waiting for a reason to pounce. She didn’t want to give him a legitimate excuse.
Morin slid a cup and saucer across the table toward her. A marigold bloom lay at the bottom of her white cup. She lifted her gaze to his.
“Something to quell the tremors.”
Of her hands? Or the subtle arousal winding tightly inside her? Cait wouldn’t have asked even if Sam weren’t sitting beside them both. “We should get down to business,” she said, letting an edge of annoyance sharpen her tone.
“Business. That’s why you brought him, right?”
She ignored the amused arch of his brow. “Something’s happened. Something…I haven’t the experience to deal with.”
“Tell me what what’s happened, Caitlyn,” he said softly.
The horrible images played across her mind. She tightened her lips and then blurted, “An old friend was murdered last night.”
“Sounds like something both of you should be well able to handle,” Morin murmured, taking a sip from his teacup.
“If his body hadn’t wound up trapped inside a mirror, I’d agree,” she said, meeting his watchful gaze. “What can pull a man into a reflection?”
Morin’s brows rose. “The mirror isn’t what’s definitive. What was the condition of the body?”
“Henry Prudoe’s body was battered, and it appeared frozen.”
Morin’s expressive face grew still. “Did you see anything else inside the mirror? A mist? Did the air appear to be moving in the curtains?”
She shook her head. “What do you think it might be?”
Morin’s Gallic shrug didn’t fool her. He gave away his tension in the subtle cant of his head as he narrowed his gaze. “Perhaps a wraith. They suffer no dimensional constricts, thus entering a reflection would be one way of hiding.”
“Hiding?” Cait’s stomach clenched, and she leaned closer. “Do you mean it could still be inside the mirror?”
Morin’s glance returned, sharpening on her. “You should have shattered it to trap the demon.”
Uh-oh. She didn’t like that look. “The technicians covering the crime scene are taking the mirror to the lab to strip off the silver backing.”
Eyes wide, his head jerked back. “You have to stop them. If it’s still in the mirror and fears losing the ability to cross—which it will if the mirror no longer reflects—it could attack again.”
Sam slipped off his stool. “We have to leave now.”
“Be at ease, Detective Pierce,” Morin said, turning sharply to glare at Sam. “Nothing happens while we speak. Didn’t she already explain that to you? Look at your watch.”
Sam snorted but stuck out his arm and pulled back his cuff to glance at his watch. His brows nearly met as he read the dial.
Cait knew what he saw—the hands were frozen. Not even a second had passed since they’d entered the shop.
In a slow move, Sam sat heavily on his stool again.
“Drink your tea, Caitlyn,” Morin said smoothly. “You need it.”
She raised the cup and drank, her curiosity satisfied when she tasted cinnamon. He’d cast a spell to imbue the tea with the power to purge her of “bad spirits,” and he’d done it subtly to keep Sam from knowing anything was up. She smiled and took another sip, her gaze going to the broken pottery on the counter onto which he’d painted the spell.
“This wraith,” Sam said, gritting out the word. “What is it? And why would it kill Henry?”
“A wraith is the spirit of a human. One who now serves a demon.”
Sam’s head jerked. “You’re talking about ghosts?”
Morin waved a hand as though impatient at having to explain. “Some people have trouble letting go of this world when they leave it. Some choose to amiably haunt places and people they love.
Those
are ghosts. Wraiths are malevolent spirits who seek power even in death. They align themselves with demons, serving them in hopes of gaining power for themselves.”
“And you think it’s…a wraith…because this thing went through a mirror?” Sarcasm lent a sharp edge to Sam’s question.
“No…” Morin said slowly. “I believe it’s a wraith because they are cold creatures. Have you ever heard a psychic swear they know when they cross paths with a spirit because the room is colder in that spot?” At Sam’s curt nod, he continued. “They’ve crossed a wraith. Usually they can’t lower the temperature more than a few degrees, but when charged with their master’s power, they can freeze a man.”
“You asked about air movement in the reflection,” Cait said, pulling Morin’s attention from Sam.
Morin nodded and some of the tension in his voice bled away. “Wraiths travel using winds and breezes.”
Cait drew a slow breath and leaned back in her chair. “I don’t get why one would kill Henry.”
“They don’t usually want to draw attention to themselves. The reason he became a target isn’t something I can help you with. Henry must have run afoul of the demon the wraith serves. You’ll have to look into his affairs to discover the cause. Follow the wraith, and you’ll find the demon. He’s who you really want.”
Cait shivered. “What sort of demon might he be?”
“If the wraith is murdering, the master might be one who needs flesh to make the human form he’s stolen immortal. There was a demon like that in Memphis a long time ago.”
Sam’s chair scraped, drawing her gaze. His expression was tight, irritation carving a frown into his forehead. “Are you done with your tea, Cait?”
Since she’d gotten what she came for, she took another deep sip and set the cup in its saucer. “Thanks for seeing us, Morin.”
“Won’t you stay?” he asked, his gaze resting on her face. It was clear the invitation was for her alone.
“Nothing’s changed, Morin,” she said, stiffening her back and her resolve. Morin had a way of creeping beneath her defenses effortlessly.
“You seem less…militant than the last time we spoke.”
“If you haven’t noticed, I’m older,” she said, lifting her chin. “I’ve had time to figure out that my mother was just as much to blame.”
Morin’s jaw firmed, showing a glimpse of his old stubborn pride, but he nodded. “You may have need of my library again, once you’ve found out more about Henry’s business.” He reached into a pocket of his trousers and brought out a small brass key.
A pang of regret caused her hand to tremble as she accepted it. She’d had a key just like it long ago and had hung it on a long cord to rest over her heart. Her fingers curled around it. “Thanks again, Morin.”
“Good-bye, love.”
Sam stalked away. Cait followed, all the way to the door and into the alley. Once the red door closed behind them, she glanced upward. The sky was a bright blue.
Time now marched on.
“Call the lab,” she said.
“Already on it,” Sam said, raising his cell phone to his ear.
While she breathed in the dank alley air and cleared her mind of old longings, Cait listened with only half her attention until Sam grew rigid beside her.
His narrowed gaze pinned her. “We’re on our way.”
“What’s happened?” Her body stiffened.
“An accident at the crime lab. One of the techs is dead. And they have something they want us to see.”
Chapter Five
Once again, Sam passed through a silent gauntlet of dark-uniformed officers and somber Tennessee bureau agents, Cait right behind him. They’d been delayed, running back to Celeste’s shop to get his car, then driving with blue lights strobing all the way to Haley Road.
Leland stood in front of the laboratory door, legs braced, his lips pressed into a grim line.
His gaze slid past Sam to Cait, but this time he didn’t challenge her presence. He reached behind himself to twist the doorknob and allowed the two of them to pass inside while he remained guarding the door.
Sam eyed the devastation inside the lab with horror knotting his gut. He’d never been squeamish at a murder scene or autopsy, but this time his belly roiled.
Metal carts lay on their sides, the tops crushed. Broken tubes and slides cluttered the tiled floor like shattered crystals, smashed to bits. Against a far wall of the lab lay the sprawled body of a forensics tech, his blue-gray face and hands glistening as though melting.
Yet the center of the room was what he couldn’t look away from, partly because the debris appeared to swirl outward from a central point, but mostly due to the grisly remnants littering the floor.
The chaos spiraled outward from a center filled with shards of glass, splintered wood, and bits of thawing meat. Instinctively, he knew the flesh belonged to Henry and that his body had shattered right along with the mirror.
Cait stepped past him, her face screwing into a fierce frown. She knelt in the center of the spiral, picked up a piece of glass, and used the pointed end to push aside chunks of bloody flesh until she found what she was looking for. A finger, thick and wrinkled. Her shoulders slumped, and she pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, gagging against it. She bolted to her feet and ran past him, fleeing through the door into the hallway. Cait met the worried stares of the first officers, snorted, and pushed past them.
Leland Hughes grabbed Sam’s arm as he followed her. “I don’t know what this is all about,” he whispered harshly, “and right now, I don’t think I want to. But I have to know if there’s gonna be more trouble.”
“I can’t answer that right now.”
“She gonna keep it together?” Leland lifted his chin toward Cait’s fleeing figure.
“She’s upset. Henry was like a father to her.”
“We all feel his loss. But is she gonna help or screw this up?”
Irritation tightened his stance. “I can’t do this without her. If I could…”
“Better catch her before she finds a bar,” Leland muttered.
Sam shrugged his arm away, anger rising swiftly. But whether it stemmed from Leland’s callous remark or his own doubts about Cait’s fitness to proceed, he couldn’t have said. “Find out for sure whether that’s Henry.” He plunged through the crowd, keeping his head down because he didn’t want anyone else stopping him. He caught up with Cait in the lobby of the building, walking through the security check. “Hold up, Cait.”
Her eyes were a little wild. “That was Henry in all those little pieces.”
“I know.” He nodded to the officer at the desk and cupped her elbow, needing to touch her to reassure her but not wanting an audience.
Once they were outside, Cait strode around the corner of the building and into an adjacent alley. She paced up and down the narrow corridor, her chest rising quickly. “You don’t need me for this,” she bit out. “You’re not going to get anything you can write up in a report—no suspect to arraign. You should just cut me loose now. I’m trouble. Leland knows it, even if you don’t.”
“Leland’s coming around. He just doesn’t trust you.”
“He wants you to babysit me, right? Your ass on the line instead of mine?”
“Something like that.”
Her green eyes tightened at the edges. “And if I let you down?”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“You’re a fool.” She stopped at last, faced the building wall, and braced a hand against it. “I’m not ready for this,” she rasped, scraping her face with her forearm.
“Think anyone is?” He angled his body to cut off the view of her from anyone passing by.
“Henry was harmless. He didn’t deserve what he got.” For a moment, her chin quivered.
He knew she didn’t really expect a reply. She just needed to talk and for him to listen. So he kept his vigil, reaching tentatively to cup a tense shoulder.
“Don’t do that.” Her head lowered. “Don’t be nice to me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to cry.”
The feminine sentiment contained in her ragged, gruff voice almost made him smile. He knew enough not to mention she already was.
Not letting himself think about what he did next, he slid his hand upward and cupped the back of her head. His fingers threaded through thick red hair, then tugged to turn her face toward his.
Tears welled in soft, moss-colored eyes. Her lips parted around a jagged inhalation.
Sam bent, knowing he was making a huge mistake but unable to resist her silent plea. Close enough now to feel her warm breath, smell the soap on her skin, he swept her bottom lip with his tongue and tasted salt.
Cait whimpered. Soft lips pushed toward his, suctioning to seal their mouths.
He wanted to be gentle, wanted to be quick, but once he felt her humid heat he groaned and pressed deeper, turning her to fit her slender curves against his. Their bodies aligned like the missing pieces of a puzzle, thighs opening, arms winding tightly.
As his heart erupted in a wild tattoo, his chest expanded. Blood pumped, flooding southward, and the low, heavy ache he’d carried all morning throbbed.
Cait broke the kiss. Her eyes opened to meet his gaze. Heat simmered beneath drooping eyelids. Then she gasped and the color left her face. “Better move,” she said, pushing hard against his chest.
He let her go and stepped back.
She turned, bent over, and emptied her stomach on the ground.
He moved behind her, pulling back her hair as she retched again. When she straightened, her gaze wouldn’t meet his, and she swiped the back of her hand across her mouth.
“I have bottled water in the car,” he said quietly, herding her toward his vehicle. Once he had her buckled in, he popped the trunk, got two bottles of water, and slid behind the steering wheel. “Here,” he said, handing her one of the bottles.
Cait slid her sunglasses up her nose, hiding her gaze, twisted the cap, and downed a quarter of the bottle before she lowered it again. “Seeing that made all this real.”
So she was back to Henry and the lab. No mention of the kiss. Sam sighed. What had he expected anyway? What remained between them could make working together awkward as hell.
So he let it slide and waited, keeping silent, hoping she’d talk more and let go of the pain that made her lips tremble.
“Still think I’m crazy?” she asked.
Tilting back his bottle, Sam swallowed. “I never thought that.”
“But you didn’t believe me when I said I followed that dead officer’s voice to the suspect when we were working the Cruz case.”