“Attorney McInnes?” a female calls out.
“It’s two in the bloody morning. What could you possibly want an attorney for?” I make my way down the hall of my one-story home to the front door. At least the pounding has stopped.
“We need to talk to you, it’s urgent.”
“Who the hell is ‘we?’” I yank open the door to see two women standing in front of me. One is a witch with blonde hair, the other a shifter with brown hair. Color me interested. Any stubbornly clinging brain fog vanishes at the sight of the two before me. Normally, witches and shifters stay away from each other—unlike a couple of centuries ago when they all lived in communities together. Hell, even vampires lived with us at one point.
“Kelly Shaw.” The blonde points to herself. “And this is Olivia Fontain.” The brunette waves. “We’re from the local coven and pack. We need to talk to you about something. It’s pretty urgent,” she repeats. There’s a note of fear and desperation in her voice, so I gesture for them to come in.
I lead them down the hallway, past my bedroom, and into my kitchen, where I flick on the light and start making coffee. Turning to lean against the counter as they seat themselves at my kitchen table, I silently chuckle as they stare at me. They’re lucky they came to see me in the middle of the night in winter. I’m currently in boy shorts and an oversized men’s shirt with my hair tied in a messy braid. During the warmer months, I sleep naked.
“Talk.” They look at each other before Olivia nods.
“I realize you’ve kept yourself fairly distant from the shifter and witch communities despite being…well…whatever you are. We can respect that. But shifter females are going missing.” I arch my eyebrow at Olivia. “They’re dominant too. I’m one of the last few left.”
“Morgan, the local alpha, is blaming the witches for it,” Kelly chimes in. Oh, I know who Morgan is alright. Douche canoe at its finest. I’d love to see that asshat taken down.
“And you’re telling me they have nothing to do with the females’ disappearances?”
Kelly and Olivia both nod. I take a moment to study them—not physically, but their auras. Olivia is strong enough to be a beta for the right alpha, hell, she’s strong enough to be alpha. Kelly is also insanely powerful. I’m surprised she isn’t the coven’s high priestess. My eyes narrow slightly as I read her aura. Some of her powers are blocked, which is highly unusual. She must have a dangerous gift. But they aren’t lying, their auras would have muted colors if they lied.
“I have one question.” They tense. “Why me?”
“You’re the only local supernatural attorney around. We figured if something illegal was happening it would be best to have you look into it before calling the Council.” Kelly explains with a shrug. “Besides, you’re outside of both communities, so no one will notice you looking into things.”
She has a valid point; I don’t really have ties to either community. Keeping to myself all these years does have its advantages. “Okay. I believe you.” They look shocked.
“That’s it? You don’t want to see any evidence?” Olivia glances at Kelly, dumbstruck.
“I can tell if you’re lying. Neither of you are.” I shrug. “So why drag this out?” My coffee maker beeps. I turn to grab three mugs from the cabinet, filling each. “I don’t have cream or sugar in the house, so you’ll have to take it black.” I place the mugs in front of them, watching as they silently stare into the steaming caffeinated liquid.
“Thank you.” Kelly’s voice is soft and filled with emotion.
“Now what sort of help do you need from me exactly?”
Kelly remains silent, so it’s Olivia who answers. “We need you to find proof. I’ve been working with the local coven, even before Morgan started pointing fingers at them, so I know there was no way they were actually involved. The majority of our pack believes me, but Morgan is stronger than he should be, so we can’t do anything about it.”
That piques my interest. “What do you mean by that? How is he stronger than he should be?”
“He hasn’t been alpha all that long,” Olivia continues, and I nod, recalling the change of power that occurred about ten years ago, “and before that, he didn’t really seem like he was going anywhere fast. Yes, he was a dominant wolf, but I wouldn’t have pegged him as alpha material. The pack was actually pretty surprised when he won his challenge and then won subsequent challenges against him. He’s only gotten stronger over the last ten years too. It’s weird.”
That is weird. Typically, shifters come into their full strength when they reach puberty. It gives both their human and animal bodies time to grow and develop. I’ve never heard of a shifter becoming more powerful as an adult. Despite this, I don’t understand why they need me to investigate for them.
“And why can’t the witches just look into this?”
“If we attempt to do anything, move in any way, and Morgan catches wind…” Kelly pauses, looking up from her coffee mug with fear shining in her eyes. “Morgan might declare an all-out war against us. We need someone on the outside, someone who doesn’t have ties to the pack or the coven, to look into things quietly while we try to keep the peace for as long as possible.” Now Kelly appears frustrated.
My dragon rustles restlessly inside me, something sparking to life in our core. For some strange reason, we both want to protect the two women sitting in front of us. I’ve acted as a private investigator before, but nothing has ever stirred this kind of primitive gut reaction in me. My dragon has never felt this amped up over a job or this connected to two virtual strangers either.
“Done.”
Three months ago.
I find myself staring down the barrel of a gun, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. While a pistol will certainly hurt, that thing isn’t going to kill me. Stupid human, you have no business playing with the big boys. It took a few weeks, but the guys I keep on retainer for information found my new best friend here, a pleasant local drug dealer named Ian.
Although local authorities have had a hard time tracking Ian down, it was fairly easy for me to do so. Why would the Alpha of the New England Pack be dabbling in human drugs? What does this have to do with the missing female shifters? There’s no way a human could even keep a dominant female contained, let alone do anything to hurt her. This just doesn’t make sense.
I need this guy to talk, and he won’t with that gun in my face. I toss a little glamor at him, and he’s putty in my hands. Like vampires, who can hold humans spellbound with their gaze, I can glamor a human with my magic and gain similar results.
“What do you know about the missing women in the area?”
“If you’re looking into those dead hookers, those were Ricky’s girls, not mine,” he tells me, his Boston accent thick.
That’s not the information I’m looking for. I shake my head. “Not the dead hookers.” I let my magic nudge his mind a bit. “The shifter women.”
Something dark slithers through his thoughts. It’s oily, slick, and sticky. Sinister. Cold. He’s been tainted by demons. Fuck.