Page 5 of A Shade of Myself
Since I didn’t want to stay with the corpse by myself, I walked out onto the large balcony, resting against the railing and letting the ocean and salt-tinged breeze calm me before I called Tatiana back. What a senseless tragedy. I hoped Davide wouldn’t be held culpable for his actions by either the Lonestars or the dead man’s family once he was identified and his loved ones told the terrible news.
3AM phone calls really were harbingers of death.
Clouds rolled in, hiding all trace of the full moon. That’s right, tonight was the last night. I stared at the water, my breath easing into rhythm with the caress of the waves, wondering where Laurent was. We’d barely spoken since we’d hooked up almost a month ago. In our last conversation, he’d mentioned having bought condoms and I’d been in a worked-up state of anticipation ever since.
Also, frustration because first he’d been away on a job, and then his mother had suffered a heart attack and he’d flown back to Paris. I’d left messages asking how she was but hadn’t gotten a response. Laurent had put an ocean between himself and his family, plus from what little I’d gleaned, there were issues with his father, so for him to drop everything and go, he must have really been worried about her.
He wasn’t due back for another week, and I didn’t relish telling him what had happened tonight, though he’d be happy to hear that Davide had been saved.
I think.
Had his silence really been because of his mom or was he feeling excluded since he couldn’t help the enthralled? I shook my head. No, that was silly. He’d pushed so hard for me to figure out how to save them. He wouldn’t get sulky about it. But if it wasn’t that, had he had second thoughts about another hookup? Were that the case, we’d deal with it like mature adults and discuss it. My desire to keep our friendship was stronger than the one to get naked with him.
As strong.
It was strong.
I glanced back into the living room. Davide hadn’t returned but it wasn’t right to put off getting Tatiana’s permission to bring in the magic cops, even if that did land our client in trouble. However, before I could head inside, a cough floated up to me from the dark beach below. I peered over the railing.
A figure in all black stood on the sand, mostly hidden by the balcony. “You’re not a blank after all,” a man said. “I didn’t believe that someone could hide their magic for that long, but look at you go.”
I tried and failed to see his face. Everything about him was indistinct, including his generic North American voice, so there was nothing to latch on to to help identify him. As I was unable to manifest my scythe, he wasn’t a dybbuk or a demon, and it was too dark to summon Delilah and see if he was a vampire.
That still left plenty of unpleasant possibilities.
“Don’t be shy,” I said. “Introduce yourself properly.”
“Maybe next time.”
The promise of future encounters. Oh goody. I gripped the railing, rising onto tiptoe to lean farther over and get a better glimpse of the intruder. “What do you want?”
“Call me curious.” He moved farther into the shadows. “Are you a baby shark or are you planning to finish what your parents started?”
My mind reeled. A children’s song, threats about my past—hold on, my past?
“Did you know my parents?”
Did you kill them?
It was too far to jump down to the sand, and I didn’t want to lose him in the time it would take to get through the house and out to the beach.
“I never met them, but I like to follow whispers.” He chuckled. “The faintest ones often prove most interesting.”
“What are you talking about?”
There was only the white noise of the waves and the pounding of my heart in answer. He was gone.
I dropped my head into my hands. What were Mom and Dad up to and why did this stranger care about my magic? I hadn’t even used my powers in a couple of weeks, spending most of my time recently working on archiving documents for Tatiana’s memoirs. Had this other weirdo been stalking me and I didn’t notice?
That was a frightening thought. Maybe Eli could give me tips on detecting a tail.
Needing something concrete to do, I found a sheet in a linen closet and draped it over the grisly remains of the turkey shifter.
Davide returned, looking pale and shaky. His hair was wet, and he’d changed into clean jeans and a bright hoodie. He carried a bowl of water in one hand and a package of deli meat in the other.
“Did you call the Lonestars? Am I going to be taken to Deadman’s Island?” he said in a dull voice. He sat down on the carpet next to the collarless bulldog, who snuffled awake. Davide placed the bowl beside the animal and dropped a couple slices of bologna on the carpet.
The dog tore into the food with wet smacking noises that made me inadvertently glance at the corpse and shudder.
