A hex gone wrong, p.8
A Hex Gone Wrong, page 8
Deme nodded. “You’re a cop. You live by a book of rules. Everything is either black or white. There’s nothing in between to you. How could you understand?”
“You’re right on one count. I don’t understand. But you could have had the decency to give me a chance.” He heaved a huge sigh. “Look, I can’t say that I believe in witches. I can’t say that I believe in magic, but I’ll tell you this—something strange happened back in your room tonight.”
“Strange things like that happen a lot around us.”
“Maybe so, but they don’t happen to me. I like to think there’s still a logical explanation for the vine.” His fingers curled around his coffee mug, the sting of the puncture wound he’d received bringing back the struggle.
“What about what happened between us in my room?” She raised her eyebrows. “You felt it, didn’t you? The anger, the rage, the overwhelming desire, didn’t you? Everything dark intensified.”
He hesitated, a residual heat pooling in his loins. “I think that can be explained. I was mad.”
Deme shook her head. “You never lose control.”
“Really mad.” His argument sounded lame even to his own ears.
Deme reached out and touched his arm. “Do you really think you could have stopped?”
He wanted to say yes. Being in control was who he was. He hated to admit it, but she was right. “No.”
“It wasn’t you. I felt it, too. I think it has something to do with the garden.”
“Why? We had passion in our relationship before.”
“Not that much. Not that violent.”
Cal’s jaw tightened. “I still don’t believe in magic.”
“Think about it…Mike attacked Rachel. Did he look like someone who could hurt a girl?”
“What do we know about the things a man is capable of? We don’t know Mike well enough to make that call.”
“Maybe not.” Deme’s gaze circled the restaurant before landing on him. “What about the two attempted rapes by model students? Think they were acting on their own?”
He shrugged. “It happens.”
“Is everything a coincidence? I thought you didn’t believe in coincidence?”
Cal didn’t have an argument for that. “Let’s agree to disagree on the magic thing. I’ll investigate the students involved in the hazing, get some information from the staff and leave the woo-woo to you.”
“Fair enough.” Deme stood. “I need to get back to the dorm. Duty calls and I’m still the R.A.” She hooked her handbag over her shoulder. “Besides, I need to check on Rachel.”
Cal lifted his jacket and slipped it over his shoulders. “I’ll check with the lieutenant and get him to run a background check on Zoe and Mike.”
* * *
Deme rode on the back of Cal’s motorcycle, her arms wrapped around his waist, glad he couldn’t see her expression. He’d recognize the hunger in her eyes, the need for physical contact with him. Her body ached for this man, but she couldn’t commit to him or any other.
What had happened to Aurai could happen again to any one of her sisters and herself. One minute there, another being dragged into some unknown hell. Being witches, having certain powers, made them targets. What kind of normal life could she live with a mortal?
She almost laughed out loud. Even to her own ears, using the words witches and mortals sounded so far-fetched. She and her sisters had played down their abilities, refusing to live up to their full potential. Their mother had told them they could live whatever lives they wished, if they wanted it badly enough. Unfortunately, normal wasn’t one of the choices.
As the motorcycle came to a stop in front of the dorm, Deme peered up. She wished this would all go away. But it wouldn’t until she found her sister.
She swung her leg over and straightened.
Cal dismounted, pulled off his helmet and grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. “Deme—”
“Look, Cal.” She faced him, her face set, her lips firm. She hadn’t wanted to confront him, not when her emotions were still raw from their earlier encounter, but she had to set him straight. “What happened earlier shouldn’t have. I don’t intend to start where we left off a year ago. Once this case is solved, once Aurai is home and safe, we go our separate ways.”
His lips twisted. “Who said I wanted it any other way? I was just going to say, be careful.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Well, then, good night.”
Before she could turn, his hand lifted to cup her cheek.
“Sweet dreams, little witch.” He bent and pressed his lips to hers.
Fire shot through every nerve in her body. Deme knew she should pull away, should put a stop to something that couldn’t be, but she didn’t.
She leaned into him, her lips parting.
His tongue delved deep, wrapping around hers as his arms circled her waist, dragging her closer.
The hard ridge behind his fly pressed into her belly, making her exceedingly aware of her effect on him. The power of bringing a man to this surged through her, blasting her blood through her veins. She squeezed the apex of her thighs, the ache so prominent she wanted to crawl all over him, make love in the moonlight, discard all reservations and inhibitions to be naked with this man. All this without the added push she’d gotten in her room.
“Get a room, will ya.”
Deme broke away from Cal, her breathing heavy, her heart racing.
Zoe Adams stood in the entrance to the dormitory, her hand on her hip, a sneer marring her perfection. She didn’t repeat her comment, only stared.
Fighting the urge to squirm, Deme straightened her shirt and touched Cal’s face. “That’s one for the cover story,” she said quietly enough only he could hear.
As she turned toward the dorm, squaring her shoulders, she caught a flash of pain winging across Cal’s features. But when she looked back, his jaw was tight, his brown eyes expressionless.
Deme couldn’t sense the vibration of his movement, so he must be waiting for her to get safely inside. She could feel his gaze following her as she neared the entrance to the Gamma Omega dormitory and Zoe Adams as the younger woman stood guard over her domain.
Zoe’s smile was anything but welcoming. She didn’t say anything as Deme stepped around her, the college coed’s concentration fixed on Cal.
Deme’s fists clenched as a flash of unexpected jealousy painted her vision green. Not that Cal would go for a college coed. He was more mature, had more class.
Still, Zoe was gorgeous, perfect in every way. Why wouldn’t a man like Cal be attracted to her? He wasn’t committed to any other female. Deme had seen to it that he wasn’t tied to her. She had her reasons. But those reasons were beginning to wear on her.
As Deme opened the glass entry door, Zoe tossed over her shoulder, “Don’t think you’re going to change anything, R.A. We like things the way they are.”
Deme froze, her fingers poised on the metal handle. “What makes you think I’ll change things?”
Zoe didn’t respond, her shoulder rising in a hint of a shrug.
“Are you afraid I’ll get in your way of the games you play with the sorority?”
“I’m not afraid.” She shot a glance at Deme before she fixed her gaze on Cal again. “I just wouldn’t want to see anyone get hurt.”
Deme let go of the handle and marched back down the steps to face Zoe. “Is that a threat?”
Zoe’s mouth curled in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Do you feel threatened?”
Deme fought her desire to throttle this prima donna. “Not in the least. You don’t scare me, Zoe. As the R.A., I determine who lives in this dormitory and who should be booted. Give me just one reason, and your ass is out of here.”
Zoe’s pale blue eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“But then, you aren’t me.” Deme stared at her a little longer. She could almost see the steam rise from Zoe’s reddening face. She could feel the heat in the air. The steps beneath her feet hummed with something she couldn’t quite place. When the other girl didn’t respond, Deme left her standing there and entered the dormitory.
Out of Zoe’s sight, Deme’s body shook. Something about Zoe Adams wasn’t right. Her aura was dark, the air around her hung heavy, oppressive. Even the earth beneath her feet seemed thick with antagonism.
As she climbed the steps, her vision wavered. Or was it the steps shifting? Either way, she clung to the railing until she reached the second floor. For once the corridor was empty. Not a single girl ventured out to the sound of the stairwell door closing behind Deme.
The silence was eerie, unnerving. The closer Deme moved toward the R.A.’s room, the less she looked forward to sleeping there. What had happened between her and Cal still hung in the air. Her body thrummed with desire. She wanted to run back down to him and spend the night in his arms, preferably in his apartment.
She held true to her course, entering her room with the key. Her first glance shot to the window. The vine that only a few hours ago had attacked Cal was safely outside the window, the thorns appearing less intimidating, the leaves a lighter shade of green.
Was it her imagination? She checked the lock on the window and leaned over the angelica root plant. It looked normal, if a little more green since she’d brought it into the room. She moved it to the counter by the sink, away from the window.
Moonlight shone through the glass, drawing Deme back to overlook the garden. Tall pine trees framed the garden, and dark blobs of shadows indicated the locations of rosebushes. Nothing appeared sinister, yet Deme couldn’t help how her chest tightened as though a hand squeezed her ribs, making it more difficult to breathe.
“Where are you, little sister?”
A whisper of air stirred the hair around her neck, as if a gentle hand settled on her shoulder, a silent voice calling out, I am here.
Restless, Deme couldn’t imagine laying her head down to sleep. So much had happened in one day and they still hadn’t found Aurai.
A glance at her bed, neatly made and untouched even after the violent sex she’d had with Cal, made her think of Rachel and Mike’s attack. Was the girl okay? Would she feel more like talking if Zoe wasn’t around to scare her silent?
Deme left her room and hurried down the hall to Rachel’s room. Again, the hallways were deserted. At eleven o’clock at night on a weekend in a dorm, it wasn’t right. She recalled staying up all hours. If not her, then others ran the hallways, giggling and making noise until the wee hours.
When she reached the room Rachel had shared with Aurai, she knocked softly, hesitant to make any noise, the silence in the dorm so complete it gave her chills. There were girls behind the doors. Deme could feel them shuffling quietly.
No response.
Deme knocked again. “Rachel, let me in?”
The floor vibrated, feet moving toward her. “Go away.” Her muffled voice barely carried through the solid door. Deme had her ear pressed to it and could feel the girl’s sobs. Her lingering fear, regret and thoughts of self-inflicted harm flowed through the barrier, filling Deme with Rachel’s frame of mind.
Deme had to get in. If Rachel was having thoughts of suicide, she had to talk to her. Get her some help. “Please, Rachel.”
“Go away.” The feet moved away, the door remaining locked, Rachel’s aura drifting away from where Deme stood pressed to the door.
Deme straightened, pulling the keys from her jeans pocket. It took only a moment to find the master key and insert it into the lock. She turned the handle and, with a quick glance at the empty corridor, ducked inside, closing the door behind her.
“Rachel?”
The girl lay wrapped in a fuzzy pink robe, curled in the fetal position on her bed, her back to Deme. “What do you want? I told you to go away.”
“I can’t. I’m worried about you. About what happened.”
“Don’t. I’m fine. Mike didn’t do anything wrong. It was my fault.”
“It wasn’t your fault. No man has the right to attack you like that.” Deme crossed the small room and sat on the edge of the bed. When she reached out to touch the back of Rachel’s neck, the girl flinched and groaned.
“Rachel?” Deme brushed the girl’s dark hair aside, exposing the column of her neck and the angry bruise marring her smooth white skin. The bruise resembled the shape of teeth marks. Human teeth.
“Did Mike do this to you?” The edge of another bruise was barely covered by the robe.
Deme pulled the lapel farther down. She had two more bite marks, equally purplish-red.
“He didn’t mean to.” Rachel tugged the edges of the robe up to her neck. “He wasn’t himself.”
“That’s not an excuse for what he did.” Deme pulled the girl up and into her arms. “No one should do this to another human.”
“You can’t turn him in, unless you turn me in, too.”
“Why?”
“I bit him, too.”
She pushed Rachel to arm’s length. “You bit him?”
“Yes. I don’t know why. I’ve never done anything like that ever. He made me do it.”
“Mike made you do it?”
“No, not Mike.”
“Then who?”
“I don’t know. It sounds crazy, but he got in my head and made me act like an animal. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t stop.”
She stared at Deme, her eyes widening. “He got to you, too, didn’t he?” She pointed at Deme’s neck.
“What do you mean?”
“There.” She pointed again.
Deme left the girl on the bed and walked to the mirror on the wall between the closets. She pushed her hair aside and there on her neck just below her ear was a bite mark, just like the one Rachel had.
Cold washed over her, her stomach clenching, her skin clammy. Deme’s world grayed around the edges as she realized just how out of control Cal’s actions had been.
Chapter 8
Cal lay in his bed in the apartment he’d had for the past five years, wishing he’d stayed with Deme. Instinct told him she wasn’t safe on that campus, in that dorm, with the craziness infecting people right and left. Someone was playing with them. With all the students and faculty at Colyer-Fenton College. The sooner he found out who, the sooner he could put a stop to it.
In the meantime he lay awake waiting for dawn and the start of another day of investigation.
He must have drifted off because the next thing he knew his alarm clock buzzed. He rolled over and hit snooze, but the alarm kept ringing. Then he realized it wasn’t his alarm but his cell phone.
After fumbling on the nightstand, he found it, flipped it open and answered, “Black.”
“Cal, I need you at the hospital.”
Cal sat up straight, all vestiges of sleep wiped from his mind. “Who?”
“A young man, a college student from Colyer-Fenton, was just brought in comatose.”
“What happened?”
“Attempted suicide.” The lieutenant hesitated. “He might just have succeeded.”
“Has he been ID’d?” Cal balanced the cell phone between his shoulder and his ear while he pulled on his jeans.
“Mike Hubbs.”
“Damn.” The phone slipped from Cal’s ear. He barely caught it before it hit the floor. He jammed it against his ear to hear the lieutenant as he continued.
“I take it you know him,” Marty said.
“Ran into him earlier. He’d attempted to rape his date, Rachel Taylor, on campus.”
“No one turned him in?”
“The girl didn’t want to press charges.”
“I’m not liking this, Cal.” The lieutenant sighed. “Get here, will ya?”
“On my way.” Cal clicked the off button and zipped his jeans, slipping the cell phone into his pocket.
He tugged a black T-shirt over his head and was pulling it down when his phone vibrated in his pocket.
Without looking at the caller ID, he answered, “Black.”
“Cal?”
Deme’s voice brought him to a standstill.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just left Rachel in her room.”
“Funny you should mention her.”
“She’s in bad shape.” Deme didn’t sound in such good shape herself. Her voice was tired.
“Tell me.”
“She’s covered in bite marks.”
“From Mike?”
“Yeah.” She paused. “And Cal?”
“You mean it gets worse?”
“Yeah.” Deme sighed.
Cal’s gut clenched, his hand tightening around the phone.
“I have a few myself.”
Cal’s stomach took a freefall and he sat hard on the bed. “I did that?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t remember doing it.” He shoved a hand through his hair, bile rising in his throat.
“It’s like I said earlier, it wasn’t you.”
