Storm Of Magick Part 7

"Hurts, don't it?" I asked, not really giving a s.h.i.+t about the answer.

"Logan!" he yelled in a ragged voice.

I tried to move away from him but he was faster and his fist made contact with my right eye. I thought he was trying to drill into my head. I reached out to my magick in Caleb. Without warning him, I borrowed his power. I was really getting good at tapping into other people's abilities. It was my turn and with a flick of my hand, I sent Alex across the room. At a glance, I could see his claws had formed. The scent of sandalwood got stronger. Not a good sign.

I heard shoes. .h.i.tting stone in the corridor, and quickly said a spell of no entry so no one could enter. I was going to finish this one way or another.

"Look what you did to me," Alex growled. His voice had deepened.

"See Alex, you're weak. You have no control," I taunted, wanting to hurt him like he had me.

Waves of heat hit me like a wall. Alex started for me again. The door shattered from Paris and the others pounding on it. At the same time, I pulled my gun. I held it in a two handed grip. The gun was steady, brownie points for me. Alex stopped. I don't think he expected me to pull my weapon on him. His eyes bled back to blue and his hands s.h.i.+fted back to normal. He looked hurt.

The door burst open. Paris, Caleb and Ronan crammed into the doorway, all looking at me. The scent of lavender permeated the room, so strong I could taste it. I was surprised. Even though Caleb was scared, he was up front and center.

"Logan, put the gun down," Ronan said in a calm voice. Bully for him.

"Bulls.h.i.+t, he came at me," I said, not taking my eyes off Alex. He was still a little too p.i.s.sed off for my taste. He slowly put his hands up as if giving up. "I don't know what has his panties in a bunch. He could've really hurt me and I would've only fired a warning shot." Swear! I took a couple of steps towards him. "Alex, just for future reference, I don't bluff and the next time you touch me like that, I will shoot you," I stated, voice cold.

I lowered my gun. I didn't need it anymore. I checked the safety couple of times and returned it to the small of my back. I stood there, looking up at Alex. I decided that I liked him even less now than before. If that was even possible.

I knew if there was a next time, I would shoot him and I wouldn't think twice about it. My body ached from the abuse of the last few hours. I wanted to take a hot shower and get some sleep.

"Logan, we need to talk about what happened," Ronan said.

"Talk to Alex. I'm taking a shower and going to bed," I snapped. I really wasn't sure which situation Ronan was talking about and I didn't give a s.h.i.+t right now. I was so done.

I made my way past the men to the bathroom. I turned on the light, closed the door and stood in front of the mirror. My face was pale. As soon as I looked at it, it started to hurt. My eye wasn't swollen too badly for taking two punches by a werebear. It was a deep shade of blue with tiny red dots on the edge. I could still taste blood. I rummaged around in a drawer and managed to find a new toothbrush. I opened the box, got out the green toothbrush, ran it under the water, put some toothpaste on the end, and started to brush. Mint tasted a lot better than blood.

I laid my gun on a little table next to the shower. Now with the adrenaline rush draining away, I felt cold. I opened the frosted gla.s.s shower door and turned the water on as hot as I could stand it.

There were already soaps and shampoos in the shower on a shelf. I tossed my clothes in the corner. I laid a large gold terrycloth towel on the vanity and got into the shower. The hot water felt great running down my body. I stood under the water until my skin was sunburn red.

I turned off the water and opened the door to find that the mirror was fogged up. When I got out of the shower, steam rose off my skin. I hoped no one else was going to take a shower, because there wasn't much hot water left. I grabbed a towel and wrapped my hair, than I dried off with another towel. Someone had brought in some clean clothes and sat them on the vanity. Bad thing was I didn't even hear them come in.

A red t-s.h.i.+rt I could use for pajamas, white lace panties and a pair of white slouch socks. The s.h.i.+rt hit me mid-thigh. Good thing I wasn't too busty. My hair was still wet, but at least it was clean and not dripping. I brushed it out and didn't even bother looking in the mirror. I knew how I looked. I grabbed my gun and opened the door.

Paris sat on the bed with Caleb next to him, already balled up asleep. Paris' light brown hair hung in waves around his face, and the light danced over his blond highlights. At this angle, his eyes didn't look their normal greenish-gray, but almost ice green, his werefox eyes.

I stopped and leaned against the wall. "Are you okay with what I accidentally did? Because I can't talk about it right now. I didn't know that the surge would reach out to all of you," I said.

"You did what you had to do and I'm okay with it," Paris said in a low voice. As if, he didn't want to wake Caleb, who could sleep through almost anything.

"Why is Caleb sleeping here?" I asked.

"He said he had to sleep near you, but didn't know why. You want to talk or get some sleep?" Paris asked eyes tired.

My body was overwhelmed with the need to recharge. I pushed away from the wall and gave a little grin. "Definitely sleep," I walked to the bed. I had no qualms sleeping in the bed with almost anyone. Almost. Well, I probably would if it was Ronan, but other than that, I had no problems.

He slid over, lifted up the pillow near me and grinned. With that, I knew everything between Paris and I would be okay. "Let's get some sleep," he said, scooting over.

I checked the safety and placed my gun under the pillow. I'm a little obsessed about the safety. I looked at Paris again. His muscles flexed with his every movement, and at a lingering glance, I could see his black short boxers. I lay down and he cuddled up to my back. My gun was close and I fell asleep feeling safe.

Immediately pictures flashed through my head, so fast I couldn't tell what any of them were. The smell of rotting flesh came with the dream.

I tried like h.e.l.l to slow the pictures down, but couldn't. Finally, one picture came into focus in living color. Another female's body and it had been horribly mutilated. The vision was so vivid that I woke up. I sat straight up in bed, breathing heavily. A small lamp barely lit anything in the room, except the area where it sat.

I hoped that my vision was wrong. I doubted it. When the s.h.i.+t did die down I would have to call Grams to see what the h.e.l.l was going on with my powers.

Paris still lay in the same position but Caleb had cuddled up to Paris's back. I lay back down and cuddled into Paris's chest so he was sufficiently sandwiched between us. I breathed in the scent of vanilla musk, the scent that I a.s.sociated with Paris, and I drifted into uneasy sleep.

Chapter 10.

I heard ringing. Where in the h.e.l.l was it coming from? Then I remembered the murder in my dream. I sat up in the barely lit room, looking around. I had no clue where the h.e.l.l my cell was. Caleb reached over, picked up my cell from the floor, and answered it.

"Logan Wolf's cell phone. Yeah, sure she's right here. It's Doyle," Caleb said, handing me the phone.

"Yeah, Doyle?" The phone was cool to the touch. The lavender smell of Caleb lingered on the cell.

"Logan, another body's been found." Doyle said.

I fumbled around for paper and pen. Caleb handed some to me and I wrote down the address: 29 Hanbury Street, backyard, across from the Fields Market. Doyle warned me that the blizzard had just hit town a couple of hours ago. Oh yeah, this was going to be another fun day. I nudged Paris, lying next to me in bed.

"Duty calls. I need some clothes." I said, grabbing my gun from underneath my pillow.

"Open the door, turn left, and it's the fourth door on the right," Caleb said, then turned over and went back to sleep. At least one of us was going to get a full night's sleep.

With my gun in hand, I went to the door. The corridor was empty. The stone radiated cold even through my socks. I hate having cold feet. Following Caleb's directions, I opened the door to another room and the lights came on automatically. I walked in and closed the door.

The carpet was black with beautiful gold tapestry wallpaper. The ceiling was covered with white silk pleats in a circular design, which made the room look very rich and warm. The room was clean and smelled of wood polish. All the bedding was gold and the bed itself was a rich, deep mahogany adorned with a beautiful canopy. There was a chest of drawers, two nightstands, an oversized chair and ottoman done in black suede. You could say one thing for Ronan: he has great taste in design.

I walked to the closet and opened the double doors. It was cedar lined and smelled wonderful. Ronan had provided me with clothes so when I stayed at the Realm, I would always have clean clothing. But, this was the first time I actually saw the closet full of clothes. Everything from make-up to underwear and evening gowns to jeans hung in my closet. I had more clothes here than I actually owned, and they were more expensive.

I pulled out a pair of Levi b.u.t.ton fly faded blue jeans, along with black work boots, and a white lace bra to match the panties I was wearing. The ice blue cashmere sweater, with a scoop neck that matched my eyes perfectly. I laid everything on the bed before heading to the bathroom. I brushed my hair and went through my usual two-minute make-up routine in seconds. I didn't even try to cover the bruises. What was the point? It's not like this was the first time I'd showed up at a crime scene with bruises.

I grabbed the doork.n.o.b but the door wouldn't budge. The strong scent of lilacs and fresh tilled earth filled the room. I stepped back and said an opening spell. Nothing. The lights flickered and went out. A set of gold eyes appeared in the mirror.

"Witch, the answers you seek here in the present are found in the past," the Dracae said.

"Why are you telling me this and what the h.e.l.l does it mean?" I asked.

"Because when this is over, I want your help," the Dracae answered.

"Help with what?" I don't like owing anyone anything.

"All in due time," the creature answered, and vanished.

The door opened and the lights came back on. I stood there trying to figure out the riddle. But, right now, I didn't have time to think about it. I quickly dressed and fished a belt through the loops of my jeans, then added my holster. The holster sat at the small of my back. Most people didn't care for that position but it's my favorite. I checked the safety of my Ruger and put it in the holster.

I didn't know how long it was going to take to get to the murder scene. Normally it took only twenty minutes, but with the storm, it could take a couple of hours. We needed to get moving. I just had to hunt down my coat. I opened the door and literally b.u.mped into Paris, who was holding my coat.

"Do you have chains for the tires in the van?" Paris asked as we climbed the stairs.

"Yeah, by the spare. Need help?" I asked.

"No, you stay in. You'll be cold soon enough," he said.

I followed Paris and with every step, I breathed in vanilla musk. I didn't realize that until now how safe I felt wrapped in that scent. We made our way down the corridor to the living room. There was n.o.body around.

I hovered outside while Paris went to the car. It didn't seem right for him to freeze his a.s.s off alone, despite his words. The snow was worse now than it had been. The temperature barely reached zero. Within minutes, Paris was done and we were on our way. While Paris drove, I told him what had happened in the bathroom. I also told him the riddle the Dracae had given me.

"What do you think it means?" he asked, eyes glued on the snow-covered road.

"I have no clue, but I'm betting there will be more murders before we figure it out," I answered.

"Do you think that the creature is doing the brutal murders?" he asked.

"I don't think so. But it is a strange coincidence," I said.

We never went over ten miles an hour, and the twenty-minute drive took over an hour. In the distance, I could see flas.h.i.+ng yellow lights. I already had on my official badge and I rolled down my window. A uniformed officer walked up to the window. His nametag said Farrell.

"Lt. Doyle is waiting for me," I said.

Farrell studied my badge. "You can park up by the other vehicles." The air filled with the scent of lemon cough drops as he spoke. The officer moved the yellow drop to the side of his mouth as he spoke.

I hated to burst Doyle's bubble but there wasn't a lot of traffic for Farrell to worry about. Not in this s.h.i.+t. We finally got close enough to see the patrol and unmarked cars. Paris pulled up next to the rest of the vehicles and parked. I sat there for a minute.

"Would you call and check on Sam?" I asked, looking out the window.

"Sure, but if there were any changes the doctor would've called," Paris answered.

I nodded, opened the door, and got out. The snow came down so hard that it looked foggy. I wore my short leather coat and fingerless gloves, but neither helped against the cold. I really had to think about getting a warmer coat.

Doyle was talking to a couple of detectives. He pointed and they nodded and walked off in that direction. Doyle didn't look intimidating until you got close to him. Then he gave off the vibe of pure authority.

There were only half of the usual people milling around the site. My theory was many of the others couldn't get their vehicles through the snow. To my surprise, Evans was snowed in. Maybe now he'd get a real car, not the black sports whatever he was driving.

"Roads are s.h.i.+tty, huh, Wolf?" Doyle asked, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

"Not bad enough to keep the killer home. Well, let's get this over with so we can get out of this s.h.i.+t," I said, looking up at the snow.

"Hicks gave me the run down on the first vic. Her name was Mary Nicholas, which we knew. There weren't any other organs missing, and it would take someone with experience approximately thirty minutes to remove that particular organ. She was dead before the first incision was made," Doyle said, lighting another cigarette. "Now for the second vic. Another female, believed to be Annie Chapel, a local girl. The sheriff called in this murder and now he thinks he's in charge. If you say this has an occult or supernatural tie to it then it's our jurisdiction."

"That's just peachy, a p.i.s.sing contest with the sheriff. Let's go meet Mr. Wonderful," I said. Paris walked up just in time to join me in the examination.

"Be nice, Wolf," Doyle warned. I gave him a wink and a grin. I just loved to see him squirm.

Before we made it to the crime scene, we ran into the sheriff. "Logan, this is Sheriff Cooper. Cooper, this is Logan Wolf, our supernatural and occult expert." Doyle said, all businesslike.

I got a strange magickal vibe for a split second. I shook it off, thinking it was coming from the scene. Cooper stood five foot ten, dark brown hair graying at the temples, and with brown eyes. The only thing special about him was that he looked like death warmed over. His black sheriff uniform didn't help. I have never seen such dark circles under anyone's eyes before. His face was a sickly shade of white and sweat had popped up on his brow. It was way too cold for sweat.

"So you're Logan Wolf. You don't look too scary. I thought you would be a guy," he said with creepy grin.

"Oh yeah, never heard that before," I said, rolling my eyes. I couldn't stop myself asking, "Sheriff, are you feeling okay?"

"A touch of the flu," Cooper said, trying to clear his throat.

I sensed something strange about him, but couldn't put my figure on it. Doyle took me to see the body. I guess Cooper had already seen it. He was the one to find the body and call it in. Thankfully, he wasn't coming. The guy put off a creepy vibe.

We walked around Spital Books, an occult shop, to a small backyard area. We were in the old part of town. The brick was worn and faded, but still had a lot of life in it. A six-foot wooden fence kept the area private for the murderer. So, he could take his time. Something told me he wasn't in a big rush in the first place. The building was dotted with windows, but due to the blizzard, the shop was closed.

"I'll bet no one saw the killer," I stated, looking at all the windows.

"The city has been shut down for the last four hours. The body was found about three hours ago, no witnesses," Doyle said looking at a small notepad.

"I'll let you know what we find," I said, looking at the body. Paris was so quiet I almost forgot he was standing with us.

"Some answers would be nice, Wolf," Doyle said, walking back through the tightly packed snow.

Paris handed me a pair of surgical gloves. It was time to get to work. I looked at the body then at Paris. "You don't know her, do you?" I asked. I wasn't trying to be mean, but better safe than sorry.

"Nope," he said.

She was definitely killed here; there was too much blood for her to have been just dumped here. "Are we ready to get this done?" I asked. I had seen enough b.l.o.o.d.y snow to last me for a while.

"Always ready to learn, Teach," Paris said with a grin, s.h.i.+ning a small flashlight on the body.

Nothing like seeing carnage at eight o'clock in the morning to have a pleasant start to your day. With the cloud cover and the storm, it seemed more like perpetual dusk than day. I didn't want to do a light spell. I didn't want to freak out Cooper or awaken the surge.

The woman was lying on her back, left arm was across the left breast, and the legs were drawn up with the feet resting on the ground. I bent down next to the body. The scent of sewage permeated the air. Only one thing made that smell: a perforated intestine. Her face was swollen with the tongue protruding. Someone had beaten the s.h.i.+t out of her and it looked like they used only a closed fist. This was one p.i.s.sed off nut wad. At a closer inspection, I could see broken capillaries around the eyes and fingerprints on the neck. She was suffocated. In addition, by my best guess, she knew she was going to die.

The throat was slashed from left to right, meaning the murderer was probably right-handed. She had short black hair. I'm sure she was pretty at one time, but with the bruising, you couldn't tell any longer. Her red coat was left open to show a red sweater. Again, the abdomen had been cut open and more time was taken on this victim to do this much damage. The small intestines were lying on the right side of the body just above the shoulder.

"It's going to be a b.i.t.c.h trying to get a body temp," Paris said, looking at the body.

I stood looking at the scene, thinking it was somehow familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it. "I've seen this before," I said. Energy tingled along my skin again; a circle of magick was cast around the body.

"You saw it at the crime scene yesterday," Paris said, as if I'd lost my mind.

"No, it's not that. I mean I've seen this exact crime scene laid out in a picture. I'll figure it out. I hope it won't be too late."