Craved (Gwen Sparks #1)

Craved (Gwen Sparks #1) Page 3

“What’s the estimated time of death?” I asked. I could only read the thoughts of the newly dead, so if Amy had been dead for longer than a day, I might have trouble seeing into her mind. From past experiences I learned that spirits usually linger awhile after the body dies. I don’t know why, maybe they were deciding whether to walk into the light or stay earthbound. All I knew was, once the spirit departs, I’m unable to read their memories.

My gift for being able to connect to the dead always made me feel unique. I haven’t ever met another witch who can do what I can. The Goddess had bestowed me with a power I had yet to understand.

“A citizen found her around nine last night. Our forensics team has clocked her death at being on the same day, sometime within four hours from when her body was found,” Wyatt said in a solemn tone.

I nodded. “I shouldn’t have any problems reading her last thoughts.” I set Aura’s pet carrier down and walked over to where Amy’s body lay under the white sheet. My hand hesitated to make contact, since that was my least favorite part of the process. I pulled the sheet back to reveal her face and gasped at how young she looked, maybe eighteen. Her complexion was paler than any vampire’s and her red hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in a while.

“You okay, Gwen?” Wyatt asked from the corner of the room. I glanced up and gave him a sad smile, “Yeah, I didn’t expect her to be so young. I really hope you catch the bastard who did this.”

“Agreed,” Wyatt said. I walked over to where Aura sat and bent down on one knee to peer into her carrier, “You ready, girl?” She meowed her affirmation and I reached in to pet her head, “Good girl.” I could feel Aura’s power vibrating through her fur as she prepared to feed me her magic. We were invisibly connected as witch and familiar, my magic could mesh with hers without touching.

Returning my attention to Amy, I stood at the head of the table and placed my hands on either side of her face, with my palms on her temples. I overcame the shiver that ran through my body at the feel of her cold, clammy skin. I stared straight ahead and drew energy from Aura which I absorbed.

Wisps of fog twisted and curled before my eyes, slowly making the room disappear into a cloudy abyss. I concentrated on Amy’s soul that lay just under the skin. I could see the outline of trees and what looked like buildings silhouetted against the night sky, but they weren’t coming into focus yet. I pressed my palms tighter to Amy’s temples and drew in the energy that Aura supplied. A scene appeared within my vision and I could make out that the part of town Amy was in was rundown and desolate. Storefronts with “Out of Business” signs lined a deserted road and off in the distance, a dilapidated warehouse stood.

The vision flickered and threatened to vanish, but I pushed forward with my magic until it was as if I were looking through Amy’s eyes. I saw and felt what she saw and felt in her last moments. My heart rate became sporadic as though I were running. The surrounding scenery bobbed up and down with my heavy footfalls. I turned and looked over my shoulder but there wasn’t anyone chasing me. I worriedly looked all over but still didn’t see anyone. Something heavy weighted my hand and I looked down to see that Amy had produced a stake, but before she could fling it into her attacker’s chest, he was on her.

The rundown town disappeared and I was strapped to a musty cot. It looked like I was in a warehouse of some sort, but I couldn’t be sure. Amy’s memories came through diluted and weak. I flung my body from side to side, trying to break the straps that held me down. A stinging pinch made me stop my attempts to escape. Looking down, I gasped at the needle that hung from my arm. I followed the plastic tube that carried my blood into one of those plastic bags that hospitals use to store blood. The sound of footsteps diverted my attention from the horror before me and to a man who was fast approaching. I couldn’t make out his face. It flickered, like the connection was bad, or maybe Amy’s soul didn’t want to remember such a horrific person. He had light hair and was dressed in jeans and a zip-up hoodie. He looked to be around five-foot-nine and his body appeared lean and muscular under his clothes. Other than that, I couldn’t make out his features. He knelt down and fixed the needle that was on its way out of Amy’s arm. We cried out as the pain radiated up our forearm. “Don’t worry, luv, it’ll all be over soon,” the man said in a thick English accent.

The vision disappeared bit by bit until my eyesight refocused on the cold storage wall in front of me. I blinked a few times to shake the residual energy from my eyes and shifted my gaze to Wyatt. He was still standing in the corner with his arms folded across his expansive chest, inspecting me.

“That never ceases to creep me out,” he said with a small laugh. “Any luck?” I thought back to what I had witnessed, muddled memories really, but I discovered a location, a warehouse of some sort.

“Maybe, does the FPD have any leads or ideas as to who did this?” I asked, curious to see if my findings would coincide with theirs. Wyatt flipped open a manila folder that lay on the stainless steel table and scanned the files inside.

“We assume blood draining means a vampire did this, but there isn’t any concrete evidence as of yet,” he answered. I nodded my head and went to uncover the arm where I had seen the needle inserted. Sure enough, a small red pinprick was evident on Amy Harper’s forearm.

“This,” I began, pointing to Amy’s arm, “was made with a needle. Whoever kidnapped her didn’t drain her with his fangs.” Wyatt came around the table to get a better look at the small hole.

“Huh? We assumed that was nothing.”

In human crime labs, they didn’t disregard a pinprick as nothing; but otherworldly beings were different, we didn’t inject drugs like humans did.

I went on to tell Wyatt everything I had seen as he held his tape recorder out in front of him. “I didn’t recognize the area, which means she wasn’t killed in Flora. What it did mean was that the person who killed her was an otherworldly, and most likely a vampire. A human can’t cross our protective borders.” My initial conclusion that the perp was a vamp was founded not on the fact that her blood was drained, but that she had conjured a stake.

“This must have something to do with brew,” Wyatt said angrily.

“Brew?” I pursed my lips in confusion.

“This doesn’t leave this room, understand?” Wyatt threatened.

I nodded my head. “Of course.”

Satisfied that I was trustworthy, Wyatt leaned against the wall and said, “There was a case two years ago in Hemlock. Witches’ bodies showing up drained just like Amy’s. Word on the street is that young vampires can get high off witches’ blood; they called it brew. It’s sold in bags of blood that are slipped into regular blood shipments, making it almost impossible to trace back to its origin. It’s also highly addictive.” Wyatt took a ragged breath, as if the world had just plopped onto his shoulders.

“If we’re dealing with brew dealers, then this case just got a whole hell of a lot more complicated.”

I was completely speechless. Witches’ blood helped young vampires high? How I never heard of this was beyond me. I didn’t keep in contact with the NAWC (North American Witches Council) so maybe that was why I was out of the loop, but still. I would have assumed if vampires could become addicted to our blood, they’d at least send a newsletter warning us. Had there been a memo I didn’t receive?

Wyatt took a phone call before I could question him further. He covered the end of his phone with his hand and said, “I’ve got to run. I’ll talk to you later.” I nodded my head because my mouth wasn’t working at the moment, too overwhelmed with this new information.

I drove back to my shop but I couldn’t stop the flow of thoughts that infiltrated my mind, like, what was a girl like Amy Harper doing in a rundown part of town? And, was it true that a witches’ blood could cause a vampire to get high? I didn’t have any of the answers but I knew who might. As much as it chapped my ass, I was going to have to talk to Aiden.

3

I called Aiden once the sun was on its way down, and to say he was amused that I needed his help, was an understatement. In the two years since I’d known him, I evaded contact with him as much as I possibly could. It wasn’t that I held a weak disposition towards vampires, just a weak sense of self-control around a certain dark haired vamp.

He lived in the Cula subdivision, named after the infamous vampire, Dracula. The architect responsible for building and naming the subdivision was also a vampire.

I parked my red car against the sidewalk and with anxious hands, opened the door. Aiden’s home was ostentatious, but then again, so were most vampires’ homes. He lived in a six thousand square foot villa with burnt orange stucco and Spanish tile roofing. Wrought iron railings decorated the balconies, of which there were three.

I took a calming deep breath to relax my nerves and finally, after debating whether it was a good idea to be visiting Aiden, I knocked. The door opened slowly, as if an apparition was welcoming me.

“Aiden?” I called into the expansive entryway.

Nothing.

I stepped just over the threshold and the flickering of light caught my peripheral vision. Aiden’s entire living room twinkled with a hundred white candles, and standing by the front window, was a shirtless Aiden. My eyes shot wide and my jaw dropped to the floor. I thought he was delicious in clothes, but out of them, he was mouth-watering.

Realizing I was staring, I averted my gaze. “Did I interrupt something?” I asked nonchalantly, but a twinge of jealousy stuck in my stomach like food poisoning.

“Actually, the guest of honor just arrived,” he said, moving at warp speed to sit on the couch. “Care to join me?” he asked, patting the cushion. A small smile tugged at my lips but I quickly straightened it and crossed my arms.

“I think you got the wrong idea, again.”

Before I could blink, Aiden was standing in front of me, bare chest and all. I jumped slightly, which made him laugh, damn it.