Officer Jonathan sighed. “What can I do for you, Breena?”

I took a slow breath. He was not happy I hadn’t come back for my grandmother’s funeral. I wasn’t happy about that either.

For the first time, I spoke words I didn’t ever want to have to utter again, the shame accompanying them hot on the back of my neck. “I was in an abusive marriage. That was why I couldn’t come back. He wouldn’t let me leave. But I’m here now, and I am fighting to keep this town safe, the way my gran taught me.” I kept my eyes locked on him, refusing to look away. “I want to know if I have someone here in the department I can turn to for help. For inside information. If not, I do understand.”

He leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands in front of his chest. My memories of him surged to the forefront of my mind. He’d taught me how to use knives and guns, how to fight and fight dirty. You will always be the smaller opponent, and being a woman, you will be underestimated. When you fight, fight with everything you’ve got and let them think you’re crazy. Let them fear the fact that you’re a woman. That you are unpredictable.

I smiled at him. “Some of the shadow people out there are afraid of the crazy woman you helped train.”

He didn’t so much as crack a smile back at me. “I loved your gran. You broke her heart when you left.”

If he’d slapped me, I couldn’t have been more shocked or hurt. I swallowed hard. “I was young and stupid. I can’t make you believe me, but I don’t regret anything as much as I regret leaving like I did. I am here now, Jon.” Jon, that’s what Gran had called him. How many times had I noticed them smiling at each other, or her touching his arm?

A lot.

A helluva lot.

“This is my last day,” he said quietly. “I am leaving Savannah.”

I leaned forward. “What? Why?”

He shook his head, took a piece of paper and scribbled two words on it.

Shadow world.

His hand trembled as he picked up his phone. “Officer Burke, could you come back to me, please?”

Jon hung up before the other person could answer. “Officer Burke can help you, I think. She worked with me on a few cases in that . . . area.” He gave me a pointed look.

“Did someone spell you?” I whispered. Holy crap, had Douche Canoe paid him a visit too? How deep did this thing go?

His head didn’t move, but his jaw ticked and he blinked once, slowly. Yes. Someone had spelled him, someone was pushing him out.

“Are you okay?” I continued to whisper, afraid that I’d trigger some sort of booby trap.

He did nod in answer to that, just as the door behind me opened, banging into my chair.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that Jon had company.” The heavy Southern drawl was thick with irritation.

I stood, turned, and put my hand out. “Officer Burke, my name is Breena O’Rylee. I’m an old friend of Jon’s.”

Officer Burke was a woman about my age, the lines at the side of her mouth and eyes deeper than they should have been. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in a tight French braid, not a single strand out of place, and not a single one of them gray. Sharp brown eyes regarded me, sweeping me over from head to toe and obviously finding me lacking.

“Jon, what do you need help with?” Her voice had that deep Southern swell that I’d had at one point in my life.

“Ms. O’Rylee might need information from time to time. Pertaining to certain things.”

I watched Burke’s eyes, seeing the way they sharpened further, even though she didn’t so much as blink.

“I see.”

Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be getting any help from this quarter. Damn it. If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone was actively cutting off any and all help I might have. But why, when no one really knew who I was? Or was this all just a coincidence?

First the Hollows.

Now Officer Jonathan.

And maybe . . . maybe even Gran? My heart constricted. “My gran’s death, it wasn’t natural, was it? Hattie said it wasn’t. I thought she was just being mean, but now . . . I’m not so sure.”

Jon’s eyes shot to mine, his mouth working soundlessly, and then he gasped and clutched at his chest. “Jon!” Burke yelled his name, and we both shot around the desk, getting him to the floor.

She pressed the button on the walkie-talkie attached to her shirt. “Officer down, we need medic in Jon’s office!”

I didn’t wait for her to tell me we needed to perform CPR. I pulled a knife, cut his shirt open, and started compressions, counting them out loud, pausing for her to give him mouth to mouth, then starting up again.

I counted through three rounds before the ambulance attendants showed up, pushing us out of the way and taking over. For a few minutes, the room was an assault on the senses: people moving around and directing traffic, furniture screeching as it was shoved out of the way, and the gray pallor of Jon’s face.

Then quiet fell on the room, and suddenly Burke and I were all alone.

“You moved quick,” she said, the hardness slipping from her eyes and her voice.

“Jon trained me.” I scooped up my knife, lifted the side of my skirt, and put it away. “Let’s hope we moved fast enough.” I would not cry, I would not cry, I . . .

Damn it. I dashed a few tears away and took a hard, trembling breath.

Burke cleared her throat and her eyes were watery. “He trained me too. If there is something I can help you with, I will try.”

I swallowed hard. “I think my gran—Celia O’Rylee—was murdered. And I think he knows who did it.”

She gave a slow nod. “He’s been dabbling in the dark stuff too long. He knows more than he’s able to let on, I’d agree with that.” She paused and looked me over again. “You aren’t human, are you? You moved too fast, you knew what was happening almost before it did. And you’re far too pretty for just being human.”

I startled. “Of course I’m human. I’m forty-one and feel every inch of my age. And I wouldn’t say I’m pretty. I’m probably average at best. But thank you?” Maybe I shouldn’t have said all of that, but her comments had caught me off guard. It was funny she should see me that way. Maybe a bit of Gran’s magic had rubbed off on me after all.

A card appeared in her hand and she snorted as she gave it to me. “That’s my private line. It’s secured so you can speak freely on it.”

The card was thick, made of a heavy cardstock with raised bumps all over it but no written words. Braille. Clever.

I didn’t have a card. “I’m next to the Sorrel-Weed house, if you need me. No phone on me. I’m out of minutes.”

“I’ll be in touch.” She turned her back on me, pausing in the doorway. “Soon as I know how Jon is.”

17

Stunned by the events in the police station, I all but stumbled out, shock rippling through me. Jon had been on the verge of saying something about Gran’s death before he’d had what looked like a heart attack. Only I wasn’t so sure.

What if it had been a spell? What if I’d triggered it by asking him that question he’d wanted so badly to answer? My thoughts raced along with my heart.

Which is my only excuse for why I didn’t notice the broad chest in front of my face until I slammed into it, bounced back, and would have ended up tumbling onto the pavement if not for the strong hands that caught my wrists and held me upright.

I blinked a couple times to make sure that I wasn’t imagining things. “Corb?”

He pulled me upright and looked me up and down. “What are you doing here?” No doubt the flowy, flowery dress was throwing him.

I shook my head. “Nothing. I’m doing nothing here.”

“Good, I was just headed out to grab an early bite. You hungry?”

I shook my head again, but my stomach betrayed me, growling so loudly that there could be no doubt it was empty.

Corb laughed. “Come on.”

Which is how I ended up having dinner with Corb. Of course, with my life, nothing could be that simple.

Corb took me to Vic’s above River Street, the same restaurant where I’d met the fairy queen what seemed like forever ago. I couldn’t help but look around for her, wondering if she was a regular.

Window seats looking out over the river with a pomegranate mojito in my hand, the smell of mint curling up my nose and drawing some of the tension away. Hell, it could have been a date if it hadn’t been Corb sitting across from me.

“Keep them coming,” I said to our waitress as I downed the first mojito like it was water and I’d been in the desert for three weeks. I wanted a good buzz on to banish all of the chills this day had rolled over me.

“Easy there,” Corb said, “or I’ll be carrying you home.”

I looked up at him, saw nothing of his cousin in his face, and wondered if this energy between us meant anything. If it was a spell. If it was a game. If it was maybe a little real.

I took a sip of the second drink, a chunk of mint leaf lodging itself at the back of my throat, which set off a spate of rather unladylike coughing. I excused myself as Corb stood, his voice reduced to a buzz in the back of my head as I tried to get the coughing under control. I made it to the bathroom before I coughed up the offending mint with a gack that left my eyes watering.

“Are you all right?”

I wiped my eyes and nodded as I turned around. “Yeah, thanks.” Blinking, I stared at the woman behind me, at her plaited hair and the same damn pantsuit as before. Did she not realize I’d notice? “Karissa? It’s really not a good look for a queen to just hang out in the bathroom here.”

She smiled. “It is a rather convenient meeting place, especially if you do not want a man to overhear your conversation.” She tipped her head to one side. “Do you find that your period has changed now that you’re over forty?”

I stared at her, my jaw only partially hanging open because she tipped her head toward the door with a little more meaning. As if someone were standing there, listening in.