“There is one more thing,” Anthony said. “On a hunch, I called an old friend who heads up the cold case files. He said that the recent murders got him thinking, so he started to dig up other unsolved killings.”
“Did he find anything?” Teag asked, leaning forward, looking utterly innocent.
Anthony nodded. “Charleston doesn’t have a huge murder rate. Of the murders that happen each year, if you took out disputes related to criminal activity and domestic violence, the number of truly ‘random’ murders are pretty few.”
“Meaning?” Teag pressed.
“Meaning that he turned up three more deaths that couldn’t be explained away by a drug deal gone bad, for instance, or a love affair gone wrong, deaths where the bodies were mutilated in some way.”
He paused. “Two of the bodies were found near the old Navy yard. They aren’t included in the count for the more recent killings.”
“I can see why that would look like a serial killer,” I mused. “Similar locations, similar type of victim, and a similar style of death.” I tilted my head, thinking, and then looked at Anthony. “These old deaths – how far back did they go?”
Anthony shifted in his seat. “The oldest one was a little more than six months ago.”
A thought occurred to me. “Anthony,” I said slowly as the idea worked itself out in my mind, “did you get any idea of the pacing of the deaths? I mean, are they happening closer together now than before?”
He nodded. “I hear that’s what’s got the cops so spooked,” he said, then realized his own unintentional pun. “Sorry. Bad word choice. They’re worried that whoever – or whatever – is behind the deaths has a new sense of urgency, and might be working up to something big, like a bombing or a mass shooting.”
“The cops don’t think in terms of the kind of stuff we saw at Gardenia Landing,” Teag said with a glance toward Anthony. “They might joke about it, but if we tried to actually tell them there was a demon involved, they’d send us to the loony bin.”
“Recommend you for psychological evaluation,” Anthony corrected with a sigh. “Not very PC of you.”
Teag rolled his eyes, but I jumped in. “Moran’s got something to do with this, and in the past, he tried to call a demon. So odds are, there’s a demon involved again, and Moran or whoever raised it is trying to harness power through the deaths.”
Anthony’s expression grew grim. “And if you’re right, and nothing makes it stop, it’s going to be worse than a bomb or a shooting, isn’t it?” I nodded, feeling a sudden chill down my spine. “I’m afraid so. Much worse.”
Chapter Twelve
I TOOK IT easy on Friday, figuring I deserved a little R&R. By the time I packed my bags the following day to leave Gardenia Landing, I felt a little wistful. I now counted Rebecca as a friend, and was utterly charmed by the inn. Picking up Baxter from the puppy spa was a chaotic reunion. Baxter just about wagged out of his silky white fur to see me, and the staff assured me Baxter had been a good boarder.
Since it was Saturday, he came to the shop with me. Fortunately, things were uneventful.
Teag insisted on helping me move Baxter and my suitcases into the house. “Anthony and I are considering having the floors done at his place, too. He told me I had to see what kind of job the refinishers did,” he said with a shrug. I figured it was his cover story so I wouldn’t mind him making sure I got home safely.
We reached my house just after sunset. Teag grabbed my suitcase from the trunk and I took my purse and Baxter’s kennel from the backseat. I paused for a moment before heading up the steps to the piazza.
“Something wrong?” Teag asked, picking up on my hesitation.
I shrugged. “Have you ever just been able to feel that someone else has been in your house?” I asked.
“I mean, I hired them to come, I saw them working, so it’s not exactly a surprise. But still –”
“Someone’s been in your private space,” Teag finished for me. I nodded.
I opened the door, expecting to be bowled over by the smell of polyurethane. I was pleasantly surprised to find that while the smell was strong it was bearable, and the floors looked fantastic.
“Wow,” Teag said. “They did a great job.”
Teag set down the suitcase as I put Baxter’s kennel on the floor and opened its door. “I promised Anthony I’d help you do a walk through before I left, just in case,” Teag said. I was just about to protest when Baxter began a deep-throated growl.
“I’ve already made a complete check. The house is secure.” Sorren said as he stepped from the shadows, coming from the direction of the kitchen.
Baxter went ballistic. Maltese are small in stature, but inside, Bax has the heart of a Mastiff. He barked and growled, sensitive to the supernatural.
Sorren regarded Baxter with affectionate resignation. He knelt down and looked right at Baxter. “What a good dog,” Sorren said in a calm voice. “A good protector. But you remember me. I’m your friend.”
Immediately, Baxter stopped in his tracks, sat down and began to wag his tail, with a happy expression that looked a little loopy. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about Sorren using his vampire mojo on my dog.
He can’t glamor me (and he says he wouldn’t as a matter of honor), but glamoring Baxter doesn’t seem to bother his conscience one whit.
“That’s cheating.”
Sorren shrugged. “In my mortal days, many a dog got a piece of me – or nearly did – as I made it over a fence. Since I learned to make friends, it goes better for both of us.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked, with a nod toward the rest of the house.
“Inside, yes. I sense no one except the workmen have been here, which is as it should be. But outside...”
“What?” I asked, feeling fear rise in my throat.
“There is a residue of something supernatural and... unhealthy.”
“Unhealthy how?” Teag asked. He had unconsciously fallen into a defensive pose from his martial arts training. But if Sorren was concerned about a threat, even ninja moves weren’t enough.
“Bad magic. What people when I was alive called ‘bad night air’. A hint of evil,” Sorren replied.
I shivered. “How did it find me? And do you think it’s connected?”
Sorren frowned. “Yes, I think it’s related, but I don’t know how. All the more reason to take steps to make sure it causes no harm.”
“Is it Moran? The demon?” Teag asked.
Sorren shrugged. “Very possibly Moran. It may be that my arrival scared him off.”
“How do I cleanse it?” I asked.
Just then, there was a knock at my door. I looked to Sorren, but he just nodded. Obviously, he had been expecting someone.
“It’s Lucinda, the mambo I told you about,” he said. “Invite her in. That will grant permission for her to use her magic to project you.”
I’d had to do the same when Sorren first visited me. All those stories about vampires not being able to enter without permission are mostly true, it turns out. Mostly. Sorren gave me reason to suspect there are loopholes and technicalities if the vampire doesn’t want to be polite.
I went to the door. Baxter, still enthralled with Sorren, never moved, staring at my business partner with a look of slightly glazed admiration.
When I opened the door, I found a slim, vibrant looking woman with a mane of hundreds of tight braids and skin the color of espresso. She wore a simple white shift with a necklace made of onyx disks and carved ebony and she carried a large tote bag. If I had to guess her age, I’d have said mid-forties, but Sorren had taught me how much looks could be deceiving.