Midnight Hour

His father didn’t give the order, but he worked for Jax and looked the other way. That made him just as bad, didn’t it?

  Burnett set his phone down. “You met Jax?”

  “Yeah.” Perry stiffened his backbone. If Burnett knew how Perry felt right now, he’d insist he pull out. Insist that Perry wasn’t ready.

  Emotionally, especially after today, Perry would have to agree, but he’d be damned if he walked away now.

  “What was the phone call about? Who might be dead?”

  Burnett raked a hand over his face. “Anthony Bastin’s cousin. We’ve been trying to find him. And now his father is, too. He’s missing.”

  Perry exhaled. “Do you think he’s with Anthony?”

  “Maybe.” Burnett leaned forward. “Good news is that Miranda got a text from Tabitha. Or at least she believes it’s from her.”

  “You know where she is?” Perry asked. Damn his life would be easier if Jax wasn’t involved with her. But his gut said that those warlocks at Jax’s house might somehow be behind this. And considering what he now knew about Jax’s operation …

  “No. It was a burner phone. We got nothing. But if it was her, and Miranda believes it was, then she’s alive.” Burnett hesitated. “What do you have for me?”

  “It’s bad. Jax isn’t just running a gang. It’s the mafia. And my brother is the damn Godfather.”

  “What do you mean?” Burnett asked.

  “He has his thumb on all the different supernatural underground gangs. Not just the typical rogue gangs, either. These are organized-crime kind of gangs. They pay him a percentage of what they pull in. If they want something, get in a jam, they come to him. He gets them what they want for a price. He’s making money from them and his own operations. He mentioned prostitution and it sounded like human trafficking. If his own men don’t meet his standards, he puts a price on their head, and it’s a contest to see who kills them.”

  Perry told Burnett about Ricky Raco and how he’d been put on the hit list. Burnett said he’d look into it. A few minutes later, after soaking up every word that Perry said, he leaned back in his chair. “Shit.”

  “And,” Perry added, “when I first got to his house, there were warlocks there. He’s doing something for a warlock gang. It could—”

  “It could be behind Tabitha’s disappearance.” Burnett scowled.

  Perry nodded. “We don’t have proof, but it’s likely.” He paused. “They have the meters to check for other shape-shifters. I don’t know if they have it to meter other supernaturals or not. It wasn’t hooked up to a security system, but the house is new so maybe they don’t have it all set up yet.”

  “You got the address where you met him?” Burnett asked.

  Perry nodded. “I’m not finished,” Perry said. “I’m worried I haven’t been as careful as I should have been on all my trips back to Shadow Falls. If Caleb’s shifting midflight, I may have missed him.”

  Burnett frowned. “I’ve already got everyone on guard at the camp.” He leaned back in his chair. “We’ll get a team together now and pick up Jax.”

  “He’s not there.” Perry ran a hand down his thigh. “The house we met in was empty. He said he was staying at another house until he gets it furnished. Following him wasn’t an option. But he’s bringing me into his organization. He said he’s setting up a meeting to introduce me to all the leaders of the various groups. But right now he’s worried about Bell’s murder—and his ties to her leading you guys to him. And he’s trying to come up with a plan that will throw you off his scent.”

  “By using you,” Burnett said figuring it out. “I got his mug shot. You two could be twins.”

  Perry nodded.

  Burnett leaned back in his chair. His posture so rock hard, he appeared chiseled out of stone. “And knowing all this, you still think you can handle it?”

  “I’m your best chance of stopping this bastard. You know that.”

  “But at what price, Perry?”

  “I can handle it.”

  Burnett was about to argue when his cell rang. Worry creased his brow as he answered. “Yeah? Shit. Anyone hurt?”

  Pain flashed in the vampire’s eyes. “Get her to Dr. Whitman’s now.”

  * * *

  Miranda dropped her phone on the bathroom counter and started the shower. She stripped down, singing while she did it. “Derivatives, derivatives. It’s so fun, it’s one prime two plus two prime one.” Yes, she was actually in a good mood.

  She’d spent a total of three hours practicing to fight. And Della couldn’t deny she was learning. Miranda also spent six hours studying. And Miranda couldn’t deny she was retaining information.

  Her time with Perry had boosted her morale. The icing on the cake, however, was hearing from Tabitha.

  She’d even talked to her dad, who’d returned back home and said her mom was better. And tomorrow her mom had plans to come see her. Not that Miranda looked forward to the visit, but … Miranda loved her mom. Even with her flaws.

  She might not be up for the Mother-of-the-Year award, but compared to Perry’s mom, she should be getting her trophy any day.

  Maybe Miranda should have been more upset to learn her relatives were rapists and murderers, but it didn’t sting that much. Call her crazy, but she couldn’t wait to tell Perry—if for no other reason than to make him feel less self-conscious about his own family.

  She’d even asked her dad about the family tree. He said he had the information on a disk at his office in Colorado. His secretary was e-mailing it tomorrow.

  Thankfully, he hadn’t asked why Miranda wanted it. Explaining to her parents about the weird tattoos and that it could mean she was some kind of a dyslexic mystic witch, didn’t seem like a good conversation. First they’d freak out because of the tattoos. Then her mom would freak out, in a good way, that Miranda might actually be something worth bragging about.

  Frankly, Miranda wasn’t buying that she had any extra powers. The blood test she’d agreed to do tomorrow would give her more answers. But Holiday had insisted her mom sign a permission slip.

  All Miranda had to do was come up with a good reason why she needed a blood test.

  Not an easy task. She’d never excelled at lying. Thinking about what all she didn’t excel at brought her back to the crazy idea that she was mystic.

  Would it be cool to have amazing talents other’s envied? Perhaps, but she remembered Tabitha hating her role as high priestess. Gifts sometimes brought on responsibilities. Miranda would really like to just concentrate on college and … Perry.

  Perry and their relationship.

  Perry and … sex.

  She was ready. The fact that she’d never felt this way when thinking of Shawn confirmed what she knew. She loved Perry.

  “Peter.” She smiled thinking of his note.

  She’d almost texted him, but remembered he was working undercover. The last thing she wanted to do was put him in any more danger than he was already in.

  She worked hard not to think about that.

  Sticking her cast in a plastic bag and taping the ends, she stepped into the steamy shower and closed the glass doors. Hot water hit her shoulders, and she closed her eyes and let the heat soothe her sore muscles. Learning to fight, even one-handed, was hard work. No wonder Kylie and Della always looked great in swimsuits. Miranda looked at her thighs. Hopefully she could lose a pound or so before Perry saw her naked.

  Then it hit. Fast. Hard. The sense that things were going to be okay dissolved. And it had nothing to do with her thighs.

  A dark feeling, a premonition, filled her chest with raw pain. Something bad was going to happen. Or had already happened.

  “No.” She tried to push the feeling away. But wishing it away wouldn’t work. She considered calling Burnett. That thought lost momentum when she realized all she saw was gray mist. She reached out, searching for the knob to turn off the hot water. She found it. The water stopped. The mist hung on. Then fingers of cold began stroking her skin. Chill bumps
chased chill bumps down her spine. Even with a chestful of doom, she recognized what this was. Death.

  She covered her most private parts with her plastic wrapped casted arm and free hand.

  “Go away.”

  The cold hung on. Got colder. Teeth chattering, she reached for the shower door, but some invisible finger started writing on the steamy glass right in front of her. Script not just written in steam, but what looked like … blood.

  Inhaling, she felt ice crystals form in her lungs. Unable to move, to scream, she watched as what looked like an address was penned on the glass shower door. Steam made the bloody script start to run. Number by number, letter by letter, it started dripping down the glass.

  Suddenly sensing it was important, Miranda repeated it inside her head as she watched the droplets of blood run down the door, onto the shower floor, and get sucked down the drain.

  Now singing the address in her head so she might remember, she bolted out of the shower and screamed.

  Della and Kylie were already in the bathroom. Miranda stood there naked, trembling, and singing. “One six nine zero six. One six nine zero six, Dairy Lane. Dairy Lane. Dairy Lane. Remember it,” she told them, unable to catch her breath. “Remember it.” She started shaking. Tears filled her eyes.

  Kylie snatched a towel from the counter and wrapped it around Miranda. “It’s okay. She’s gone.”

  “Remember it.” Tears ran down her face. “One six nine zero six. Dairy Lane.”

  “You don’t have to remember it,” Della said softly as if not to frighten Miranda. That’s when Miranda saw the mirror behind Della. There was the same address. Penned in blood.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Perry stood in the little white room watching Burnett interrogate Chuckie and Mark. The two of them had tried to get to Lily Chambers again. Agent Tobler spotted them, and they went on full attack. They’d knifed her. Thankfully, Shawn had been there to start the next shift and he not only stopped it, but managed to take the bozos down.

  “I’m gonna ask one more time!” Burnett’s voice rang loud and dangerous.

  Mark and Chuckie, cuffed, wearing patches preventing them from shifting, looked ready to shit their pants. Not that Perry blamed them. Burnett hadn’t held back.

  With his fangs out and eyes lime green, he’d broken the table in half and then tossed it around the room several times. The fact that the guys’ legs were handcuffed to it made it quite difficult for the two prisoners.

  “Tell me where Jaxon Bowen is or the table isn’t the only thing in this room that is going to be ripped apart!”

  The door behind Perry swung open. Shawn, wearing blood on his shirt just like he had the time before, started inside and came to an abrupt halt. Their eyes met. Perry didn’t blink.

  The warlock gave Perry a slight nod and came the rest of the way inside. Perry didn’t say anything. Hell, he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t going to apologize any more than Shawn was going to congratulate him.

  So they both just faced the two-way mirror and watched what played out in the next room.

  “The only addresses we have on him are the ones we already told you,” Mark said. “Give us a break!”

  “Oh, I’m going to,” Burnett said. “What do you want broken first? I’m saving the neck for when you refuse to answer the third time.”

  Shawn chuckled. “No one interviews quite like Burnett. But if we did that—”

  “They hurt a female.” Perry looked at Shawn. “Is Agent Tobler okay?”

  “The doctor said she’d be okay as long as she doesn’t get an infection.”

  “Good,” Perry said.

  Burnett kicked a chair out from under one of the guys, then picked up an empty chair and ripped it apart and tossed it down. A clattering sound filled the room.

  “Burnett gets pissed when anyone on his team gets hurt, but something about hurting girls…,” Perry said. “I’ve seen him hang a social worker from a three-story building for fifteen minutes when he slapped one of our foster sisters. And Burnett didn’t even like the sister.”

  “I kind of feel the same way.” Shawn looked at Perry. From the look in the warlock’s eyes, Perry sensed they weren’t talking about Burnett anymore.

  “Miranda loves you,” Shawn said. “I don’t think I really loved her, but I could have. She’s special. And if you hurt her, I’ll hunt you down.”

  Perry’s first instinct was to get mad; thankfully, his second instinct kicked in. “If I hurt her, I’ll surrender my sorry ass over to you. You see, I love her. I know I do.” With that said, the majority of the tension faded. They offered each other a nod, then looked back at the mirror.

  After a second, Perry realized he needed to say one more thing. “Thank you. For not making this harder on her. And with things here.”

  “You’re welcome,” Shawn said.

  The shrill ring of Burnett’s phone brought Perry’s and Shawn’s attention back to the mirror.

  “That’s weird,” Shawn said. “Burnett always turns his phone off during interviews.”

  “No, he blocks all calls … except Holiday’s,” Perry said. “And she doesn’t call unless it’s an emergency.”

  Perry held his breath, fearing that he’d been right earlier. Had Caleb followed him to the camp?

  “What’s up?” Burnett held a finger in the air at the two men as if warning them to not speak. They didn’t.

  Burnett’s jaw tightened. “Is she hurt?”

  “Okay. And the zip?” he asked.

  “Zip?” Shawn asked.

  Perry was too busy listening to answer.

  “Text me that address.” Burnett hung up and looked at Chuckie and Mark, who were lying spread out on the floor amongst the broken pieces of metal furniture. “I’ll be right back, guys. Make yourselves at home.”

  Perry and Shawn rushed out to meet Burnett in the hall.

  “What’s going on?” Perry’s heart drummed in his throat and ears.

  “The spirit of Bell Stephens paid Miranda a visit. She wrote an address on the bathroom mirror … in blood.”

  Perry could imagine how Miranda felt. “Is she okay?”

  “Spoke with Holiday, she’s fine.”

  Perry considered the information. “Do you think Bell knows where Jax is?”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Burnett looked at Shawn. “I’m texting you the address. Bell neglected to give a city, so do a wide search on it. You two do that while I finish up in there. I’m gonna see if I can’t break these guys.”

  Perry wondered if that pun wasn’t intended.

  * * *

  “Why me?” Miranda paced in the living room, wearing only her pink fluffy robe. She kept pulling on the belt, tightening it, cinching it, knotting it. It felt as if that two-inch sash of nubby cotton was all that held her together.

  If it came undone, so would Miranda.

  Della, Holiday, and Kylie all sat on the sofa. Miranda couldn’t sit still. Her nerves hadn’t stopped buzzing, her skin crawling, or her heart pounding against her rib cage as if wanting to break free to find a needy donor. Probably one who didn’t have a ghost popping in the shower.

  Holiday, looking as calm as Sunday morning, leaned forward. “Did you see her?”

  “No.” Miranda gave the belt another yank. And her gaze went to the window. The blinds were up. A summer storm brewed outside. In the distance she saw lightning bolt across the sky. The trees swayed, back and forth. She stopped and watched them dance in the wind.

  “Did she speak to you?” Holiday asked, in a normal voice, but it somehow sounded like a whisper.

  “No.” Miranda shook her head.

  “Did you feel her?” the fae asked.

  Miranda looked away from the window. “I felt the cold. Fingers of cold, touching me … everywhere.” She looked back at Holiday and her two best friends. They’d all dealt with this. She felt like a wimp for losing it.

  “Take a deep breath,” Holiday said. “You’re completely safe. You kno
w that, don’t you?”

  Miranda nodded. But knowing it and feeling it were two different things. Fine, she’d just admit it. She was a wimp.

  “Sit down and try to relax,” Holiday suggested.

  She yanked on the belt. “I need to move.” She started walking again.

  Holiday paused. “Did you pick up any emotions?”

  Miranda looked at her not sure what she meant.

  “Sometimes we take on the ghost’s emotions and that can be a clue to what they need, or what they’re trying to tell you.”

  “I didn’t … Wait. I got a premonition.”

  “You sure that’s what it was?”

  “I can’t be a hundred percent sure. But it felt the same.” Miranda gave her belt another tug.

  “What does that feel like?”

  Miranda stopped by the window again. “Like someone vacuumed out all your joy. Like you got some terrible news.” She turned and looked at Holiday. “Why me? Not you?”

  “She somehow connected to you.”

  “I’m a witch. Witches don’t do ghosts and I’ve never even been to the falls!” The waterfalls on Shadow Falls’ property were known to be where the death angels hung out, and many who went there were doomed to be visited by spirits.

  “Has it called you?” Kylie asked. “Like, have you heard it?”

  “No.” But then she remembered hearing the sound of water. Hadn’t that just been the creek? Oh damn.

  “You don’t sound sure,” Della said.

  “I said no!” Miranda snapped.

  “Sorry,” Della said. That’s when Miranda knew how bad things must be. Della seldom apologized.

  Holiday stood and put her hands on Miranda’s shoulders. A wave of calm had her heart slowing down. “Try sitting down.”

  Miranda dropped in a chair. Holiday sat on the arm, as if she might need to be close.

  And maybe she did. Miranda’s insides hadn’t stopped trembling.

  Right then she heard the wind outside. She heard trees lashing in the air. She heard sadness, pain, and grief.

  “Two things could be happening here,” Holiday said. “Ghosts with strong motivation can attach themselves to anyone—even someone without the gift of spirit communication. Bell probably followed Perry when he picked up her baby. She knew Perry. So chances are, she trusted him. Then he gave you the baby. For a mom to see a stranger take her infant, it might have given her the energy to attach herself to you.”