Vampire’s Descent: Willow Harbor - Book Two Page 6

  What was I supposed to be looking for? How could I help if I didn’t even know that much?

  “Anything that looks old,” Claire insisted.

  “That doesn’t help me much.” I chuckled. “They all look old to me. I know nothing about books.” Maybe I shouldn’t have offered to help. I was only going to slow her down.

  “Old like this,” Claire said. I glanced at her. She held up a leather-bound book that looked like it would disintegrate if she blew on it. “It’ll probably be something on the supernatural world, or from some well-known novelist of the past.”

  “Yeah, I’m not big on knowing who well-known novelists of the past are off the top of my head. How about I give you the books that look super old?”

  She shook her head, sending her dark hair flying. “That’s not going to work.”

  She was right. Every book on the top couple of shelves looked super old to me. I took a step back and tried to glance at the bookshelf as a whole, hoping one would jump out at me. One book did—but not for the right reason.

  Something black had been splashed across its thick spine. It resembled blood, but darker. Black blood maybe?

  I grabbed the book off the lower shelf. It was heavier than I’d expected. The thing had to be close to a thousand pages. My fingernail scraped the blackness staining its spine. Tiny pieces flaked off. Yeah, it had to be blood. I held the book to my nose. It didn’t smell like any blood I’d smelled before. There was something foreign about it. While there was no denying it came from an animal, I couldn’t pinpoint which kind.

  “Now there’s a man after my heart,” Claire teased. I glanced at her. She was staring at me with a lopsided grin plastered on her face and a hand on her cocked hip. “A guy who enjoys the scent of old books as much as I do.”

  “There’s something on this one.” I held it up to my nose again. What was that smell?

  “My brother’s blood?” Her voice trembled when she spoke. Immediately, I regretted my words and dropped the book from my nose.

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. I think it’s something else.” I handed it to her. “It doesn’t smell like any shifter blood I’ve ever smelled before. It’s not human either. There’s something different about it, something foreign.”

  Claire lifted it to her nose and inhaled.

  “What is that?” She sniffed again.

  “My guess is it belonged to whatever attacked Danny. It’s possibly from the same creature you heard in your nightmare.”

  “You might be right,” Claire said as she sniffed it again.

  “Is there video surveillance in this place?”

  “Already one step ahead of you.” Claire set the book on the desk. “There isn’t a camera back here, but there’s one in the front of the store. I’m supposed to meet with the chief of police tomorrow morning. Apparently, they confiscated the video so they could investigate my brother’s suicide.” She said the word suicide as though it left a bad taste in her mouth.

  “I’m willing to bet whatever that blood belongs to will turn up on the video. I’d be interested in seeing it as well,” I said.

  “Come with me. I’m meeting him at ten thirty tomorrow. We can look at it together.”

  I wanted to go with her, but I wasn’t sure I’d would be able. While the supply of blood Loran had given me would last me through tomorrow, I wanted to be there when my original supply was delivered. Even though the bags came frozen, I preferred to get them in the fridge as soon as possible.

  There was nothing worse than rancid blood.

  “I would, but I have two covers I need to finish.” It was the first thing that came to mind as a legitimate excuse. “I’d love to meet up with you in the evening, though.”

  “Sure.” She chewed her bottom lip.

  “Think we should resume this search tomorrow night? You look like you could use some sleep.”

  “Are you trying to tell me I look like crap?”

  “No, not at all,” I backtracked. Why the hell had I said that? “I know you didn’t get much sleep last night is all, and I’m sure you’ve had a long day. Helping your father and all. You should get some rest.”

  She opened her mouth, and I thought she was about to protest, but instead a yawn slipped free. “Yeah, okay. Sleep might be good.” She picked up the massive book I’d pointed out and clutched it to her chest before exiting the office.

  I grabbed the coffees I’d bought us and placed them in the refrigerator. It was probably best if neither one of us had any more caffeine tonight.

  As I left the office, I flipped the light off. Claire stood at the entrance to the shop, waiting on me. We slipped outside as she flipped the lights to the place off, and then she locked the door. I let her go up the stairs toward the apartments before me, noticing how her feet seemed to drag. Exhaustion seemed to weigh down even the smallest of her movements. I watched as she walked to Danny’s door before saying goodnight to her. Then I headed to my apartment.

  Two thoughts raced through my head, competing for my attention, as I closed the door behind me: One, Danny had been murdered. The black blood on the book I’d found was enough proof for me. And two, I was determined to help Claire figure out what happened to him and why.

  Six

  Claire

  I was late. I’d set the appointment up with the chief of police for ten thirty, and it was a few minutes past that time now. I’d overslept. Mason had been right when he’d said I needed rest. Apparently I’d needed it more than I’d thought. While I did feel rejuvenated when I woke this morning, I was panicked now because I was late. I didn’t think making the chief of police wait was a good idea. He was taking time out of his busy day to personally hand over the surveillance tape from the bookstore. I needed to be respectful of that.

  My hand shook as I gripped the metal handle on the entrance to the police station. A tightness built in my chest when I opened the door. Instantly, my mind questioned why the chief wanted to hand the tape to me personally. Was there something he wanted to say about it? Something I should be nervous about seeing or hearing? Whatever his reason was, I didn’t think it would be anything good.

  The station was dead when I stepped through the door. I hadn’t expected it to be crazy busy, but I’d thought there would at least be people in handcuffs and cops rushing around to file reports.

  Maybe this was why the chief had no qualms about meeting me today. He knew things would be slow. It was possible this was how things were here all the time. Supernaturals weren’t a bunch of hooligans.

  “Claire. Hey darlin’,” Officer Morris called to me from where he stood behind his desk. “How you holdin’ up?”

  I’d known Officer Morris since I was a little girl. His wife babysat for me and my brother a couple times. They had a daughter a few years younger than us. Her name was Madge, and she’d always had a thing for Danny when we were in high school, but she never acted on it. If I was honest, I’d always imagined Danny and her hooking up, but they never had.

  They would’ve been the cutest couple.

  “I’m as good as I can be,” I said with as much honesty as I could muster. I was sick of having this conversation with people. “Is the chief around? I’m supposed to meet him about something.”

  “He is. He’s waitin’ for you in his office.” Officer Morris pointed me in the direction of the chief’s office. “You let me and Martha know if you and your father need anythin’, you here? Anythin’ at all.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be sure and tell him.” I slipped past Officer Morris and headed toward the chief’s office.

  Two voices floated from inside. The chief wasn’t alone. I hung back, unsure if I should knock or wait until the person he was speaking with left. The door was open, but I felt weird interrupting. He did know I was coming though, so I rapped my knuckles on the doorframe.

  “Come on in,” chief called out. The sound of papers shuffling met my ears as I crossed the threshold into the room.

  His office was tiny, w
hich was to be expected considering the size of the building. A desk, a couple of tall metal filing cabinets, and a few chairs were it. Everything was squished together, leaving no room for personal space.

  “Hi, I hope I’m not interrupting something. If so, I’m okay with waiting outside while you two finish up.” I smiled as I bounced my gaze between the chief and whoever the tall, dark-haired guy was with the penetrating eyes standing to my left. There was something dark and mysterious about him that intrigued me. He was a supernatural, I could tell. He had me wanting to straighten my back and make sure I didn’t step out of line while in his presence. It wasn’t just the uniform he wore either. The guy screamed authority more than the chief of police did, which I found odd.

  “No, you’re fine. You’re not interrupting anything. I told you ten thirty and I meant it,” the chief said as he shoved papers beneath a manila envelope and out of view. “I can talk with you more about this in depth later, Cole,” he said, dismissing the guy.

  “Sounds good,” Cole said. He left the office without a glance at me.

  “You mentioned you wanted to see the surveillance tape from the bookstore, right?” the chief asked as he motioned for me to take a seat in one of the chairs opposite him.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and moved to one of the chairs.

  “Yeah. I did.” I cleared my throat, preparing myself to ask one of the questions that had been plaguing my mind. “Why did you take it in the first place?”

  “Let me start by saying I’m terribly sorry for your loss, Claire. Danny was a good kid, and there are quite a few people mourning his death, myself included.”

  “Thank you,” I said to be polite.

  “That said, Danny’s death came as a shock to us all. He wasn’t the type I’d have deemed as mentally unstable,” the chief continued.

  I squirmed in my seat. “He wasn’t. Mentally unstable, I mean. My brother was fine. He was stable.”

  The chief’s gaze fell from mine as he cleared his throat. He leaned his elbows against the desktop and glanced at me from over his knuckles. “Which is why I wanted to take a look at the surveillance footage myself.”

  “Because you didn’t believe Danny would commit suicide, or because there was something at the scene of his death that made you think it might be something else?” I narrowed my eyes at him, hoping to figure out an answer to my question by his reaction.

  His face was blank, though. Was he hiding something, or was his neutral expression standard protocol in a situation like this?

  “There wasn’t anything on the tape to rule out suicide,” he said, ignoring my question altogether. Something in his expression changed, but it was gone, replaced by his stoic look of blankness, before I could decipher it.

  I sat back in my chair. Why was he being so vague? Couldn’t he just tell me his honest opinion of what happened to Danny?

  “Here’s the tape,” the chief said, garnering my full attention again. He slid it across the desk toward me. “I truly am sorry for your loss.”

  My lips clamped shut. I grabbed the tape and stood. There was plenty I wanted to say, but none of it would get me anywhere with him. It was clear he wasn’t going to admit to thinking there was some sense of foul play in my brother’s death. I had a sinking feeling he was covering something up.

  I stalked out of his office with my head high and my back straight. On my way out of the station, I avoided saying goodbye to Officer Morris and slipped out the door.

  I’d made it halfway to my brother’s apartment when I decided watching the tape alone might not be the best thing. I knew what I was feeling—the discomfort and disturbed state of mind—wasn’t going to disappear once I watched it. For all I knew, it would intensify.

  My teeth sank into my bottom lip. Watching with Mason might be the best idea.

  Something about him calmed my nerves. He was comforting in a strange way I couldn’t quite describe.

  The scent of fresh coffee floated to my nose as I neared Urban Grind. I wanted a cup, but was running low on cash. I still needed to find a job, or at the very least get the shop up and running again. Dad had closed it after Danny’s death. I didn’t blame him. It was hard to step through the doors after what happened.

  Maybe that was how I should spend the rest of my day, at the bookstore catching up on things. There was probably loads of online orders. Generally, we sold more copies online than in the store. My feet faltered in front of Urban Grind. While coffee would help me stay awake while I caught up on shop orders, I couldn’t afford one. Then I remembered the coffees from last night waiting in the mini fridge and continued toward the shop.

  Smoke billowed out the open door of Ida’s Bakery when I neared it on my way to the bookstore. I peeked my head inside, making sure everything was ok. Ida was an elderly woman who made the best bread and pastries in Willow Harbor. They tasted like magic, which was funny because everyone knew Ida was a witch. Nobody talked about it, though. Nobody ever talked about who was what in Willow Harbor. It was the way it had always been.

  While others thought Ida was a witch, I knew firsthand. When I was a kid, I used to rollerblade on the sidewalk in front of her shop. One day I wiped out. The palms of my hands and my knees got all scraped up. Ida saw me fall and came running. She took me into the back room of her bakery and cleaned me up. One of the cuts on my left palm was too deep. Blood gushed from it. I remembered how freaked out I’d been. Ida had taken my hand in hers, told me to close my eyes as she coaxed me to breathe deep, and then she did something I’ll never forget—she whispered words in a language I’d never heard and dribbled some water she’d gotten from the channel near the willow tree onto my wounds. The skin of my palm heated and the pain there dissipated. When I opened my eyes, all that remained of the gash was a thin white scar. She’d healed me somehow.

  “Ms. Ida, you okay in here?” I called into the smoke-filled shop.

  “Claire bear,” the old woman’s voice floated to my ears. “You better get your scrawny butt in here and give me a hug.”

  My stomach grumbled as I entered the heavenly place. I hoped she’d offer me a muffin like she always used to. I hadn’t eaten breakfast, and it was well past lunch now.

  “Hi, how are you? I smelled smoke,” I said as I headed for her outstretched arms.

  “Oh, poo,” she said, waving off my words. Her dark arms wrapped around me and squeezed tight. I returned her hug, enjoying how familiar the gesture felt. God, it had been forever since I’d seen her. “Question is, how are you doing, child?”

  “I’m hanging in there. Dad and I both are.”

  “Good.” She released her grip on me. “I was worried about you. I’m worried about your father but most of all you. Twins have a special bond.”

  Ida knew what she was talking about, considering she was a twin, too.

  “I miss him,” I heard myself say. My body trembled as the weight of my words hit me.

  “Shh, child. I know you do.” She wrapped her arms around me again, pulling me in for another hug. I buried my face in her shoulder. “You’ll always miss him, you know that, but you also know the pain won’t be so severe forever.”

  She meant well, but her words were still difficult to hear. I’d been through this before, and I knew once the pain dissipated things would find a normal rhythm again and life would go on. I didn’t want that to happen. Not this time. Danny had meant too much to me.

  “Hey, Ida,” someone whispered from behind us. Ida released me, and I wiped my nose on the back of my hand as I turned to see who’d stepped into the bakery. A young woman close to my age stood inside the door carrying a large cardboard box. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I wanted to make sure I had your order right. These are the fruits you ordered. Mom also said you wanted zucchini this time?”

  Her name was Anna. I’d seen her before and her family. They owned a massive garden that provided fruit and vegetables for Ida’s pastries and breads, along with a few other places in town. They were witches, too
. Earthy witches. There was something simplistic and organic about the way they lived I enjoyed.

  Ida wiped her hands on her apron and stepped forward to peer inside the box. “I’m planning to make some zucchini muffins this week.”

  “There’s four in here. They’re decent size and color. If you need more, just give us a call,” Anna said as she set the box on the counter beside the cash register.

  “These do look good,” Ida said as she grabbed one out and looked it over. “Thank you, child, for bringing them by.”

  “No problem,” Anna said. Her eyes drifted to me. “Hi, Claire, I just wanted to say I’m really sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “You better get used to hearing those words,” Ida said as soon as Anna left the bakery. “People are going to be saying them to you for a long time.”

  “I know, but I’m already sick of hearing them.” I leaned my hip against the counter. “Want me to carry that into the back for you?” I nodded to the box.

  “Sure.”

  I scooped up the box Anna had brought by and followed Ida into the back. Somehow the scent of smoke had already dissipated from the kitchen and the scent of blueberry lingered in the air now, causing my stomach to growl.

  “Are you hungry? I’ve got a batch of your favorite muffins in the oven. They should be ready in a minute or two. I planned to bring them to the bookstore later today for you.”

  “I’m starved.” My mouth watered at the thought of her blueberry muffins.

  I set the box of fruit and veggies on the stainless-steel island in the center of the room and parked my butt on one of the stools. When I was a kid, I loved hanging out here during the summer. Ida was always testing new recipes, which meant there were new muffins, cookies, and breads to try nearly every day. Danny and I were her guinea pigs. Well, us and Gwen, Ida’s granddaughter. She was the same age as Danny and me. We got along well but had never been close except during the summers. Maybe it was a friendship out of boredom more than anything.