Death's Dark Horse: Mystery (January Chevalier Supernatural Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  Trace shrugged. “I ran out onto the road. I remember everything up to the crash perfectly. I know it was my fault.”

  January’s ears pricked up at that piece of information. “Was it just full moon madness?” She asked, trying to be casual.

  It was a well known fact that shifters were closer to their animal selves than ever at the full moon. It wasn’t unusual for accidents to happen. That was what had made the amount of control Luke had over the pack even more remarkable. Some animals traditionally didn’t play nicely together.

  “It wasn’t that,” Trace said.

  January tried to look surprised, even though she’d known full well that it hadn’t been anything to do with the moon.

  The other shifter shook her auburn fringe, so that it half covered her eyes. “I know this sounds stupid, but there was something in the woods.” She gave January an embarrassed smile.

  It was ridiculous for a shifter to be afraid of something in the woods on a full moon night.

  “I’m not laughing. Something had to have been wrong for you to be running blind,” she said, kindly, hoping that Trace would continue. If her suspicions were correct, she might have seen whatever it was that had killed the wolf.

  The other girl nodded on repeat, like she was psyching herself up to tell a tale that she didn’t quite believe herself. “I was at the pack meeting, but after you left, all the shifters started fighting and others ran away. Even with that horrible mind power thing Luke can do, he couldn’t get it under control.”

  January tried not to betray any surprise. She hadn’t known the effect her small act of rebellion had had. That was probably the main reason why Luke wanted to keep her from talking to other shifters.

  “Anyway, I was one of the ones that ran. Believe it or not, deer aren’t exactly fighting animals,” she said, slightly mocking the hoofed kind. Her smile faltered when she remembered January’s own heritage and her spirit in spite of that. “Well, I ran, anyway. I got to a part of the forest I thought was far enough away. I’d planned to spend the rest of the night there when I heard something big moving in the bushes. At first, I thought it was a hunter.” The whites of her eyes flashed for a moment as the deer within her won out. “But then I sensed it was an animal - a really large one. I stayed still, hoping it didn’t know I was there, but then I heard it jump and charge through the trees. It was so big…” She faltered and the silence stretched out for a long time. “I just ran and hoped it wouldn’t catch me. That was how I ended up on the road.”

  She was so upset by it all, January decided not to press for details just yet. It was useful information none the less, especially the insight on what had happened after she’d walked away from the pack.

  “I always wonder how many of our kind get killed on the roads and no one ever knows because they were in animal form,” January said, trying for a subject change but instantly realising the faux pas, given Trace’s recent road accident.

  “Yeah, think of all those missing people that might be road kill somewhere,” the other girl replied.

  She had this small smile on her face that made January think she had a rather dark sense of humour hidden beneath the nerves.

  “I found a dead pigeon on my doorstep today,” she confided. “I hope it wasn’t a member of the pack.”

  Trace snorted. “Maybe they spoke to you without realising and Luke found out. He is omnipresent after all.”

  She seemed to be coming out of her shell now that the traumatic recounting of the monster in the woods was over. January was just about to ask how well she’d recovered from the accident, when a line creased the other girl’s forehead.

  “It was on your doorstep? The pigeon, I mean.”

  “Yeah. It didn’t die there - someone had left it. They knocked on the door and ran away.” January felt her own brow furrow as she relived that morning’s strange happening. She hadn’t given it much thought. Her idea of a shifter ‘hate note’ had seemed to fit.

  “Was there anything with it, like herbs or pins?” There was a hint of excitement in Trace’s voice.

  “I think there was basil and bay leaf stuffed inside the bird. There might have been something else too, but this thing was pretty rotten.”

  The other shifter’s eyes were flashing now. “Wow, that sounds like a curse! Someone must really have it in for you.” She blushed, realising her reaction of unbridled joy wasn’t the appropriate one. “Sorry, I only know that because of my hobby. I study magic. I’m not a witch or anything, it just interests me. You know - the history, why it works, where magic comes from and all that…” She waved a hand to show there was much more to it. “Hey, were there any pins down the bird’s throat?”

  January suddenly didn’t feel too good about that bird on the doorstep. “I don’t know? I didn’t look.” She suddenly remembered finding a bead of blood on her finger after cleaning up the bird. “Damn, there might have been,” she admitted, feeling grossed out.

  Trace’s mouth dropped open. “Wow! That sounds like a really, really strong curse. I think it’s one that makes the recipient choke on their own blood. It’s really nasty!”

  January struggled to swallow for a second but knew it was just her mind playing tricks. “Is there a time delay on this bad juju?”

  Trace shook her head, oblivious to January’s discomfort. “Nope, it should be pretty immediate - like, from when you touch it. That is - if you think this stuff really works. I’ve only heard stories. I’ve never actually seen anything magical, but I suppose our very existence might also qualify magic. Although, I’ve always suspected that we can be explained by physics… somehow.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Sorry, I get distracted easily. I almost forgot - the spell has to be perfect, too.” She glanced across at January, whose eyes were round. “I guess they either messed up, or magic isn’t real,” she said with a guilty smile.

  “Magic’s real,” January said, thinking of the strange writing on the club bathroom wall. That had been real. She was less convinced by the anti-vamp dust. It was more than likely that it just contained a substance that vampires were sensitive to and would wash away in the next rainfall.

  January could see that Trace wanted to ask her how she knew that magic was real, but she was more worried about the person that was trying to curse her. Was she only alive because of their error?

  “I could have a look at the pigeon if you like? Let you know if it was done correctly?”

  January thought about that for a moment and then shook her head. She really didn’t want to go digging around in the rubbish for it. She also didn’t want to know what the person responsible had or hadn’t done slightly wrong. She just wanted to know who’d done it.

  “Has there been anything else weird recently?” Trace asked.

  January tried not to laugh. An honest answer to that question would go on for hours, but one thing did jump out. “There was dust on the doorstep a week or so ago. It probably came from the main road. I think it had been windy,” she explained, but Trace’s eyes were glowing again.

  “I bet it was graveyard dust! Wowser!”

  January couldn’t say that she shared her enthusiasm.

  “Graveyard dust is usually used in spells of African origin. The general premise is that you mix up the spell ingredients and your enemy walks on it, or over it - et voila! Something bad happens.” She looked at January. “Has anything bad happened?”

  January didn’t even know where to begin, so she said nothing.

  “What did you do with the dust? Maybe I could look at that instead?”

  “Oh, I swept it away when I had a spare moment.”

  Trace blinked. “Well, that would have neutralised the spell. In theory, anyway. I’m still not sure about magic,” she concluded.

  They both sat in silence, thinking about the possibility of a magical world while the sun just started to dip in the sky and the golden light shone across the leaf strewn playground. January knew she needed to get back to the tearoom and prepare fo
r their Sunday Afternoon Tea.

  “Trace, I was just wondering… that thing in the woods - did you see what it was at all?”

  The nerves made a return, but this time Trace looked braver, probably trusting January a little more. “I still think I was probably seeing things, but it looked like…” She bit her tongue. It was so ridiculous she didn’t even want to say it. Instead she got her phone out of her pocket and found a ‘draw’ application. She scribbled on the screen and showed the picture to January when she was done. Somehow it was less embarrassing than saying the word out loud.

  January nodded, keeping her expression blank. Trace may not understand the significance of what she’d just drawn, but to January it made a lot of sense. It confirmed her biggest fear.

  Someone knew her secret.

  12

  It was a bad idea.

  She’d known that as soon as it had popped into her head, but some ideas are hard to dig out once they’ve taken root. It had been the stress of the past two weeks, finally filling her up to the point where on Friday night, she just had to get away from it all.

  “You’ll regret this,” she said, as she folded her night clothes on the hall table.

  She walked out into the cool night air, feeling its bite against her hot body. Shifters’ blood always ran hot. She checked round the side of the house, making sure the key safe she’d installed was still attached to the wall. Strictly speaking, it counted as a property modification and was strictly prohibited. Gregory Drax would just have to deal with it.

  The energy particles drew together, and January galloped away through the dark forest. It was time to enjoy her rural surroundings.

  One hour later, she paused at the top of a hill on the farmland side of the forest. The night was silent, and she hadn’t even come across any of the normal nocturnal forest creatures. The dark sky - lit only by a few stars and a tiny sliver of moon - and the slight bite in the air, probably had something to do with the great expanse of quiet.

  So, when a twig snapped like a gunshot, half a mile away, January knew that there was something lurking.

  She stayed still on the hill, her ears twitching. The tension grew and then… BAM! She’d been listening so hard, it made her jump when the explosion of twigs and branches tearing and breaking began. Something was running through the forest at high speed.

  It was coming her way.

  In spite of her experience, she couldn’t help the tremors that crept up her legs at the thought of the unknown creature. Curiosity won out over instinct. Instead of running, she silently trotted to the base of the hill and shrank back between the trees, knowing her jet-black coat would make her almost invisible.

  She didn’t have to wait for long.

  Barely illuminated by the light from the stars, a man appeared on top of the hill. January could tell from his fast movements and his pale face that he was a vampire, but the way he ran in a zigzag pattern confused her. He seemed afraid.

  She decided to make an appearance and stepped forwards, but her hoof hit a treacherous twig. The vampire jumped before running back into the trees. Her ears pricked up and she moved quickly now, worried she’d just sent him straight back into the pathway of whatever it was he’d been running from. She didn’t want to miss this opportunity to discover exactly what was lurking in the woods either.

  A shrill scream further disturbed the silent forest. January galloped now, her speed inhibited by the thickening trees.

  “No! I’m on your side! I’m on your…Ungh!” The vampire’s pleas were cut short.

  She heard the all too familiar sloshing sound of a big bag of blood exploding. That was one lead she’d lost forever, but the killer was still there.

  She moved as silently as the forest floor would allow, but it wasn’t enough. There was the sound of more crashing and the killer made their escape.

  January was about to rush into the clearing she’d just come upon, and give chase, when she saw that someone had got there first. She changed back to human form without making another sound.

  “Gregory?”

  The vampire turned, the snarl still written on his face. He relaxed when he saw who she was. “Out for a late night run?” His eyes were narrow and suspicious.

  January glanced down at the mess of blood and gore, which showed where the other vampire had met his end. “I saw him. He was on top of the hill. I heard him die,” she said, wanting Gregory to know she’d had nothing to do with it.

  “I’d been following him. His name was Grant Robson. He’d just left North London after being turned against his will.” Gregory’s face was lined with disapproval. There simply wasn’t a need for forced vampirism. There were more than enough of them around as it was.

  “Did you see what killed him?” January asked.

  Gregory hesitated. “No, but it smells of shifter around here.”

  January knew he meant a shifter of a specific variety too. Still - that brief hesitation had been worrying.

  “Is this the vampire who was with my sister on Saturday night?”

  Gregory nodded, distractedly.

  “I know she wasn’t here tonight,” January informed the vampire, not sure how good his sense of smell was. Probably not as good as hers. Vamps’ best abilities were speed and hearing.

  “What are your plans now?” She asked, only now becoming self-conscious about her lack of clothing.

  Oh well, he’s seen it all already. Perhaps she was starting to feel scrutinised because Gregory’s attention had drifted away from the vampire remains on the floor. He silently raised an eyebrow and she knew she’d been correct.

  “I was going to follow the trail of our runaway vampire killer. I don’t think it should be too hard, but it’s probably something I should do now if I want to catch them. You’re welcome to run along too,” he added.

  January thought that his plans for after the chase were transparent. “No thanks, I’ve got a gig tomorrow. I’d better get back home and sleep.”

  Something that wasn’t disappointment flashed across Gregory’s face, but the emotion was too fast for January to catch. “Good luck. Don’t let Luke Bingley’s intimidation tactics wear you down,” he added.

  January sighed, thinking of his nearly constant presence at the tearooms. He’d even started bringing his laptop in with him and using the free wifi to do work.

  “Night, Gregory. Tell me if you find anything out about the killer. Or my sister,” she added, half-heartedly.

  He nodded and gave her one last appraising look before becoming a blur and racing through the trees in a way January could never match. She wondered how his eyes could see the oncoming obstacles so quickly.

  She shook her head, her curls jumping in the breeze. Then she walked a little way back through the trees in the general direction of home. Gregory has far more chance of catching the killer alone, anyway, she thought, trying to allay her disappointment at having to give up the hunt.

  Her human ears listened to make sure that there was nothing nearby before she summoned the energy once more and made the change. Now she felt tired. It was far more difficult without the additional energetic help of the full moon. She cantered back through the forest until she reached the woods behind her own house.

  “Told you it was a bad idea,” she whispered aloud, when she extracted the house key from the wall mounted safe and let herself in.

  It only occurred to her later, when she was lying in bed, that she’d missed a perfect opportunity to kill Gregory Drax.

  13

  The crowd at The Bingley Bar was smaller than it had been two weeks ago. January commented and was told that more people would be coming later. A lot more people. There was something about the lion shifter’s smile that she hadn’t liked. Of course, being one of the elite cats, she presumed he was permitted to talk to her. It made her feel a lot better that he was only working as a barman, when he obviously thought he was a cut above.

  “Hey, J, what do you think we should start with tonight?” Mike a
sked, as January was tuning her bass.

  Lewis glanced up from adjusting a cymbal stand. “Do I get a say in this?”

  Mike rolled his eyes, taking it as sarcasm.

  “How about ‘Every Breath You Take’?” January semi-sarcastically suggested the stalkiest song ever written. Perhaps Luke would get the message.

  Mike looked thoughtful. “Yeah okay, start slow and build up as more people come in. Good thinking.”

  Cherri stood by the microphone and said something to Mike as he passed that January didn’t catch. She didn’t think she wanted to hear it either. Lewis frowned and muttered something to himself before he started the beat. January tried to give him a cheery smile, but he wasn’t looking up.

  Luke Bingley walked across the room as the band kicked off. January didn’t miss the comical look of comprehension when he heard the song and glanced up at her. She flashed him a big smile. This one’s for you, you annoying leopard, she thought.

  “Right, that’s it,” Mike announced at eleven on the dot. The rest of the band looked confused and he shrugged. “Yeah, I know. One of the bar guys told me we had to stop at eleven. I’m just doing what I’m told. It does seem a shame though, now that there are so many people.”

  January nodded, but inside, she was a blur of confusion. The bar was packed – but not with shifters. They were dressed even more smartly than the standard clientele, and January could almost smell the money. What were they here for?

  “It’s time we had a proper talk… in my office,” Luke appeared behind her just as January finished packing her bass guitar up.

  She hated the implied power play.

  “If you wanted to talk to me, why didn’t you find a moment during one of your visits to the tearooms? I would have thought you’d be far too busy right now.” She pointedly looked at the audience, who were assembling in front of the stage - even though the band had finished. They were obviously waiting for something to happen.

  Luke’s eyes flashed. “Pack up, get off the stage, and come and see me - or I’ll come and find you. Trust me, it’s better that we do it this way,” he said, and January was surprised into silence by the real snarl in his voice. That had been a partial transformation. Luke Bingley had finally snapped.