Page 1 of Blood Magic

Chapter One

I shoved my expensive, extremely comfortable chair back and stood, walking away from my new desk. I turned in a circle, studying my office, slightly awed.

Mayor Hedrick had given me this office in downtown Jakeston, along with two employees whom he was determined to pay until I started making real money. One of the employees was muscle—he stood in the outer office or walked around the building—both inside and out—prowling and scowling, and probably hoping someone would try to cause me harm so he’d have an excuse to pummel them with his mighty fists.

His name was Joe Patrick and I believed he was ex-military. Just something about the way he carried himself. He didn’t tell me anything about his past and I didn’t ask. He wasn’t the talkative sort. He was around six feet three inches tall, bald, and bulky with muscle. Lucy was in love—lust, rather—and made sure to drop by at least once a day with a box of pastries for me, she claimed, though more often than not the box was nearly empty before it found its way to my office because she stopped and offered them to Joe first. Apparently, he liked to eat nearly as much as I did.

The other employee was a guy named Max Pepper. Despite the fact that he was either my age or a year or two older, I had trouble thinking of him as anything but a kid. He was an odd one, awkward and cranky but sweet and funny all at the same time, and he tended to occasionally put a question mark at the end of his statements. He was my office manager/assistant/receptionist, and he seemed capable so far. Not that there was much for me to judge him on, seeing as how everything was so damn quiet.

Two weeks ago I’d been too busy to take a breath but now, it was like the city had gone to sleep. No one called me to cleanse their homes, no spirits came to visit me, and Detective Moreno had pretty much stopped talking to me since the reporters had decided he and I were having an affair. Even Lucy’s dreams, while not stopping, had no clues or locations to help us investigate them.

That’s what I was—officially now, thanks to the mayor. The discreet sign on my door proved it.

Kait Silver, Investigator of Preternatural Crimes.

My business cards stated that I specialized in cleansing services at $145 an hour. There was no mention of speaking with the dead or finding kidnapping victims, because I would have been overrun by desperate people and quite possibly picked up by government officials and taken to a secret lab hidden somewhere remote and scary.

Even though I consulted with the police at times, only one cop really knew what I did, and he would never talk about me. He barely even talked to me these days. Probably for the best.

There were other offices in this huge, tall building, but I hadn’t introduced myself to my neighbors. The building housed attorneys and CPAs and even a bank, and they looked askance at a “medium” or “psychic” or whatever they were calling me taking an office in their building, but so far, none of them had approached me.

Max said he heard a group of people talking about thewitch who’d moved in, and the next day, Lucy said she heard the word ghostbusters three times before she made it from the main entrance to our space.

It was sort of funny, really.

I kept late hours mainly because I’d long ago gotten into the habit of working when it was dark and sleeping at least until noon or later, depending on my night. Also, supernatural trouble seemed to come mostly at night. Still, I managed to make it to the office around three or four p.m. so there was a bit of overlap in the time when I arrived and the others left.

I hurried back to my desk when my phone buzzed, hoping the call was for something more interesting than Lucy bringing donuts. “A Mr. Paul Ferguson wonders if you might have time to see him without an appointment?” Max said.

“Uh, yeah,” I told him. “I do seem to have some free time on my hands.” I wondered if he could hear my eyes rolling. “Send him in.”

I stood when the door opened and Max showed Paul Ferguson in. “Can I get you some coffee or a cold beverage?” he asked, before withdrawing.

“No, thanks,” Ferguson said.

“Please,” I said, gesturing at one of the chairs in front of my desk. “What can I do for you, Mr. Ferguson?”

“Paul,” he told me. He fell silent, staring at his hands, apparently trying to decide what to say.

I studied him while he groped with his decisions, noticing the bags under his eyes, the trembling of his fingers, and the way his clothes were a couple sizes too large, as though he’d recently lost weight.

Finally, he lifted his stare to mine. “A vampire took my wife.”

The words rushed out and even as he spoke them he flinched with embarrassment. He darted his stare away and half stood, then with a hopeless look around the room, he sank back down onto his chair. “I’m not insane, Ms. Silver.” But his words were whispered, and he wouldn’t look at me.

I flipped open a notebook and grabbed a pen. “Did you see him take her? Start at the beginning and tell me everything.” I poised my pen over the paper and waited. “And I’ll need a description, Paul. Everything you can think of. Height, weight, hair color…”

“I can show you,” he said, tentatively pulling his phone from his pocket. “I got pictures.”

I gaped at him for a few seconds, then began laughing. Oh, the awesomeness of modern tech. He laughed with me, and for the first time since he’d entered my office the stiffness left his body and the hopelessness left his eyes.

I gave him my number. “Send everything you have to my phone.”

“You’ll take the case, then?” he asked.

I was happy to see that the dullness had left his eyes. “Yes. My assistant will go over my rates with you, and you’ll have the option of—”

“I don’t care what it costs, Ms. Silver. It’ll be worth everything I have to get Brenda back. It’s worth it just to have someone believe me.” He hesitated, then met my stare. “You do believe me?”