Coveted (Gwen Sparks #3)

Coveted (Gwen Sparks #3) Page 15

“Damn you, Dorian,” I whispered to myself.

Two hard knocks echoed behind my front door. I froze, afraid to find out who was on the other side. I didn’t have a lot of visitors, and the ones I did have only came once the sun fell. Jumping out of the chair, I hurried to the knife block on my counter and grabbed the biggest blade it stored. Clutching the handle, my palm suddenly sweaty, I inched closer to the door.

“Who is it?” It was times like these that I wished I had a peephole. It didn’t matter, if I didn’t recognize the responder’s voice I wouldn’t open the door.

“It’s Micah,” a smooth baritone answered and I sagged in relief. I flipped the lock and opened the door. Micah, my ex, local detective and werewolf, stood with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. His shaggy brown hair was a tangled mess as if he had just hopped out of bed and headed over here. Dark circled lined his eyes and his skin was a shade paler now that I could see him in the light of day. He looked like he’d aged five years.

“Hey,” I said. “Come on in.”

Micah stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Do you want something to drink? I think I have some iced tea.”

Micah eyed the knife in my hand and then arched a brow at me.

I smiled sheepishly. “You can never be too careful.”

“No, I’m fine,” Micah said, waving off my hospitality. “The reason I came by was to tell you I think you should keep the store closed, at least until rogues stop coming after you.”

I leaned against the counter and studied Micah’s face. “You mean because the other business owners don’t want me to reopen.”

Micah rubbed his stubble-lined jaw as he stared at the floor. When he looked up his amber eyes were apologetic. “We’ve gotten complaints,” he admitted. “But that’s not the only reason. I do think it’s a good idea to lay low. I don’t know what happened while you were in Moon, but the residents of Flora aren’t happy you brought the trouble back with you.”

I snorted. “It’s not like I invited the rogues here to kill me or wreak havoc in our peaceful little town.”

It was Micah’s case that started the entire mess, one that I should have kept my nose out of. Not that it would have done any good. Ian Despereaux targeted me before I even knew he existed. I was doomed from the start. Since the fight was between the witches and vampires, the two governments took over handling the problem, leaving Micah, and every other person who worked on the case, out of the loop.

“I’m not saying that, Gwen,” Micah said. “It’s just…what did happen in Moon? I thought the NAWC and the VC were taking care of the problem?”

That caused me to snort in derision again. “Oh they are, but Holly, our trusted council leader, was in on the entire thing. Like I mentioned last night.She and Ian were also screwing.” I took a moment to reign in my anger. “She’s supposedly locked up and awaiting trial while the other NAWC members are working around the clock to reset the protection spell of our blood. Until then, I have to dodge rogues and whatever else Holly throws my way.”

“It doesn’t surprise me. Every government has a dirty side.”

“Yeah, well, my government’s dirty side is trying to kill me,” I paused. “Speaking of which, what do you know about the Veil?”

Micah sat down at the table, leaning back in the chair. “I thought they were a myth, a story that paranoid supes told. Up until now they’ve been more legend than fact.” Returning the knife to the block, I joined him at the table.

“So, what do you know about the Veil? I tried looking them up on the web but got a whole lot of nothing.”

Micah chuckled. “They’re a secret, underground group, Gwen. They’re not going to advertise their services on a website.” He pointed to the computer. “They’re not stupid.”

“It’s called grasping at straws, Micah. I have no way of finding out about them. Everything else is on the web so I figured I would give it a shot.”

“Why not ask Dorian?” Micah asked.

“Hmm, I should have thought about that right before he left.” I was trying very hard to not allow Dorian’s runaway act anger me. It was not working so far. I had plenty of time to think about it this morning and the more I thought the angrier I got. Demon possessed rogues wanted my head, and he was off who knew where trying to figure out why he couldn’t see my death. One thing was for sure, I was on my own for the time being. I would have to start taking those precautions Dorian was so fond of bitching at me about.

“What?” I asked once I noticed the strange look Micah was giving me.

Micah grinned. “Nothing,” he said shaking his head and lowering his eyes.

“It’s something,” I insisted. “Do you forget we dated for eight months? I know when you’re hiding something from me.”

“I can smell your desire for him,” Micah said almost apologetically. “Were you and him…”

“No,” I snapped. “And that’s TMI.” It was impossible for a person to retain their modesty when they were around vampires and werewolves. They saw, heard or smelled too much.

“Hey, I tried not to tell you,” Micah shrugged. “Getting back on track, the Veil is made up of supernatural rogues, creatures who don’t want to play along with society’s rules. Once they join the Veil they forfeit their souls to the dark side for the chance of gaining power. No one knows where their headquarters are, and the only way to contact them is through a black magic spell.”

Well, that information didn’t help me. It was pretty much the same thing Dorian had told me. Maybe the Veil was just a bunch of social rejects that banded together and formed their own gang, a minor operation instead of the huge following like we all suspected. There was nothing more important to thugs than their reputations. If the public thought they were some scary, demon-backed group, they would leave them alone. The rogues would be free to kill anyone they wanted. I ran the argument through my head, testing it for flaws. After debating my theory, I found one—the black eyes. My attacker wasn’t a vampire, which meant he was something else, something darker—eviler.

“How are you feeling?” Micah asked, tearing me away from my thoughts. “You look a lot better.”

“Better than last night?”

“Better than after your attack.”

My eyebrows arched. “Oh, I didn’t realize you saw me afterwards.” I remembered Dorian telling me he called for help when I was fighting to stay conscious, but I couldn’t put a coherent thought together. Of course the FPD would arrive on the scene.

“Yeah,” Micah said softly. “We weren’t sure you would make it.” His warm honeyed eyes watched me with compassion, and I gave him a small smile.

“Aiden gave me his blood,” I said with nonchalance. “How have you been? You look…tired.” I needed to change the subject. If I thought about how I felt in the hospital it would break through my confidence.

“Jesse’s pregnant,” he said reluctantly. The reason it hadn’t worked out between Micah and me was due to the fact that I wasn’t a werewolf and couldn’t offer him purebred children. His father, the alpha of their pack, did not make our relationship easy. In the end, Micah chose his pack and it was for the best.

“Congratulations,” I said and tried to sound the way a normal, excited person would. I was happy for Micah but it was still a touchy, awkward subject.

“Thanks,” Micah said. “A pregnant werewolf’s hormones are off the charts. If I survive this it will be a miracle.”

I smiled. “You’re tough. I’m sure you’ll be okay. I bet your father and Wyatt are excited.”

“Gwen, we don’t have to talk about it. I just wanted to stop by and see if you were all right and to ask you to keep Broomsticks closed until this blows over.”

“Are you going to call the people who send my bills and let them know why I can’t work?” I halfheartedly joked. A magic shop in a town full of magical folks didn’t rake in the dough like some would think. I made enough to cover my expenses with a small profit at the end. Plus, keeping the store closed meant Penny and Jillian wouldn’t get a paycheck either.

“Didn’t you kill Ian Despereaux?” Micah asked.

My eyebrows drew together. “Yeah? So?”

“You didn’t get an inheritance?”

“A what?”

“When vampires are killed, their assets go to the one who ended their life. It’s a sick rule the vamps have. Doesn’t make sense to me. You would think people would be trying to kill vampires all the time to inherit their fortunes.”

I laughed. “That is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. Plus, Ian’s sire is still alive. Wouldn’t his money go to him?”

Micah shrugged. “Perhaps, or maybe his sire just doesn’t want you to have it and that is why you haven’t gotten notice of it yet. You should ask Aiden…if you two are speaking, that is.”

“Yeah, we’re still talking…sort of.”

Micah’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“Another long story I don’t feel like telling,” I explained.

An awkward silence settled over the kitchen, and then Micah stood up. “I should get going. It was nice seeing you, Gwen.”

I stood up also, walking around the table to hold the door while Micah stepped out onto the balcony. “You too.”

“Think about what I said about keeping the store closed, and stay safe. You know if you need anything you can call me or Wyatt.”

“I will, and thanks. Tell Jesse I said congrats,” I smiled. When Micah turned to leave, I shut the door and leaned against it, staring at my small kitchen. Cabinets and countertop were housed on the far wall, along with the stove. The refrigerator rested at the end, and a small worn table sat in front of two windows that looked over the pathetic front lawn and parking lot. I had painted the walls a bright blue, but the longer I stared at them the more I hated the color. The yellowing linoleum was beginning to crack in various places. The landlord hadn’t updated the apartment building since the eighties.