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2
Tarnley
Dead witches.
Talk about a buzz kill. My employees move through the parking lot with the skill of people who have been doing their jobs—well—for decades. Ever since I settled in Billings, it was important to me to not be uprooted again.
After all, there’s only so much moving one can take. As with any place, there is risk of exposure, something I’ve seen happen at horrific points in history where supernaturals were slaughtered for simply being different.
The Salem Witch Trials come to mind.
My solution? Supernatural cleaners who will sweep an area, returning it to good as new before the humans can catch wind of it. The hunters solve the crime, and I clean up the mess.
That’s how it’s worked for the last few decades. Granted, when Steven Astor was killed, there was a bit of a span of time where nothing got solved, but soon after, Delaney took the reins of her family’s blood-stained legacy.
And everything fell into place once more.
At least, until the original witch decided to play puppeteer to the younger Astor and ordered the murder of the eldest sister. That’s when shit got really complicated.
Dead witch.
Supernatural overthrow.
Soul jumping.
Basically, since then, life has been one fight after another, with the latest focusing on Lucy, the daughter of Heather, the original witch. Fucking psychos, that entire line.
“We’re all cleaned up.” Matt brings me over the clipboard to sign off on the job completion. A quick scrawl of my signature, and another supernatural mess has disappeared.
“Thanks.”
He turns away, leaving me standing with the young psychic detective who is the only reason I wasn’t having to watch the bodies of my best friend and his mate scraped off the asphalt of Rainey Astor’s apartment parking lot.
“This could have been bad,” Walker says, with a shake of his head.
“It could have been,” I agree. “But it wasn’t. No need to dwell on it now.” I press a hand to my chest and rub the muscle just above my heart. It’s been aching for the last hour, and since I’m a vampire, aches and pains are never normal.
Even the pain, though, is preferable to the stomach-sinking feeling of dread settling in my gut like a fucking rock. I tell myself it’s because there’s no telling whether we’ll survive this coming fight or not, but a part of me wonders if it’s not something else entirely.
Something related to unrequited love and a blood bond with a witch.
A truck turns into the lot and comes to stop a few yards away from us. Cole Miller—used-to-be-dead shifter—climbs out with his mate, Delaney Astor, the born-again eldest Astor sister, and Fearghas, a fae who risked his life to bring the aforementioned shifter back to life.
See? Confusing as shit.
“Hey,” Delaney greets, before turning to Walker. “Thank you for showing up when you did.”
“I wish I had gotten here sooner. Fucking feeling didn’t hit me until right before I was headed to bed. By the time I got here, Rainey was trapped under her bike, and Elijah looked like he’d been hit by a semi.”
The visual of my best friend bleeding to death on the ground is not one I will ever forget.
“Did you talk to Bronywyn? Is he going to be okay?” Walker asks, before I have the chance to myself.
“She sedated him, but he’s strong. I believe he’ll pull through.”
The mention of the witch who’s become more to me than either of us care to admit has me swallowing hard.
“Any clue where they ran off to?” Cole asks.
