Before The Echo E-Book

Alex Westmore

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: An Echo Branson Investigation
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 358

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

The supernatural world has ruptured. On the horizon looms a battle from which there is no return.

A powerful band of deadly supernaturals has united, ready to reveal their existence to the natural world, and prepare to take their place at the head of humanity.

By force.

All that stands in their way is a small cadre of supernaturals from the Louisiana Bayou who have yet to be fully trained. To successfully make their stand, the novice supers will need to call on other paranormal beings who live in and around Savannah; allies from the darkest corners of the paranormal world.

As lives are lost and the balance of power starts to tip, the young paranormals and their supernatural counterparts must dig in for a war that could change everything.

When supers turn against supers, only the powerful will survive.

Leseprobe

BEFORE THE ECHO

An Echo Branson Investigation: Prequel

Alex Westmore

Published by Inspired Quill: August 2020

First Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The publisher has no control over, and is not responsible for, any third-party websites or their contents.

Before The Echo © 2020 by Alex Westmore

Contact the author through their website: alexwestmore.net

Chief Editor: Sara-Jayne Slack

Cover Design: EE Designs: designsee.tumblr.com

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-908600-99-8

eBook ISBN: 978-1-913117-02-3

EPUB Edition

Inspired Quill Publishing, UK

Business Reg. No. 7592847

www.inspired-quill.com

To Kari Knight for your patience, your willingness to live with a crazy person, and your overwhelming desire to keep me well-stocked in Marvel toys. It wasn’t always a smooth ride, but I am a better person for having been loved by you.

Thank you, Lovebug, from the bottom of my heart for everything. No matter where you go or what you do, nothing will ever be as fun as Snot E. Bubbles. xoxo.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Author’s Note

Acknowledgements

About the Author

More From This Author

CHAPTER 1

“P-Please… please… you don’t have to do this,” the twenty-something stammered as he pressed his back against the rough brick wall. “Please…” he struggled to move his arms, pinned to the wall by an unseen force.

His plea fell at the feet of the five siblings standing in a semi-circle around the young man. Three women and two men all with the same dark hair and intense dark eyes kept their gaze on him without blinking, without emotion.

“Of course we don’t have to do this, Simon,” the tallest of the young women said coldly. “We are the Obscuri Sensus, and there is little we ever have to do.” She stepped forward and leaned into him. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“What… what do you want with me?”

“We’ve heard you are quite the magician.”

“Magician? I’m not a magician.” Simon’s eyes darted left then right; a small dotting of perspiration appeared on his forehead. “I swear. I’m not.”

“Perhaps that was just a rumor then,” she said, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder. “We’ve heard you are adept at Simon Says. Was that a lie?”

“No.”

“If I release your arms, you won’t try to use them against us, will you?”

“What do you think? There are five of you and only one of me.”

She cocked her head as if considering his math. “Indeed. You must know, of course, that trying to escape will cost you your life. You wouldn’t want to test that, would you?”

Simon stood up straighter and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Excellent. So, just show us what you can do, and no one gets hurt.”

Simon glanced over at the other four before throwing his hands in the air. All five mimicked his actions. “That’s really about it.”

“Please tell us you can do better than this pathetic little parlor trick,” one of the guys said as he lowered his hands.

Simon’s eyes grew wide. “Wait. How—”

“How did I release your lame-ass hold on me?” The young man shook his head in disgust. “If you are lucky enough to be born a superior being, then you ought to possess superior powers. Surely that mediocre display was not the best you can do.”

Simon’s eyebrows knitted together. “You didn’t track me down and corner me in a parking lot to test my powers.”

“Why else would we seek you out?” The taller woman asked. “To discuss your baseball card collection? Your rather shoddy grades at university? Your inability to get a girlfriend? Which area of your pathetic little life would be worth our time?”

Simon threw his shoulders back. “Screw you.”

“Oh, now he gets balls,” one of the other girls muttered.

Simon’s fists shot out and both men punched one of the other young women in the face. He pivoted away from the taller woman and took four steps before stopping in his tracks. “My eyes! I can’t see! What the hell have you—” He dropped to one knee, his fingertips touching his eyelids. “I’m blind!”

One of the brothers helped his sister to her feet. “Sorry.”

“I hope she just ends him. What a douche.”

“We’re so disappointed,” the tall woman said, as she approached Simon. “Quite frankly, we expected… well… more.” She nodded to her sister, who angrily thrusted her hand toward Simon.

Simon clawed his left hand, pressed the tips of his fingers and thumb into the sides of his own throat and squeezed. His eyes gaped, betraying the surprise he felt at being incapable of stopping himself.

The leader bent over Simon. “In case, as I suspect, your Latin is terrible, Obscuri Sensus means Dark Senses… as in the five senses; two of which are no longer under your control. That’s why you can’t see and why you are currently choking yourself.”

“P-Please… stop.”

“You’re a supernatural, yes?”

“Y-Yes.” Simon’s face grew redder.

“Then stop it yourself.”

Nothing happened.

“That’s what I thought.” She turned on her heel. “He’s no good.”

“You sure?” One of the men folded his arms, still looking at Simon.

“Kind of a cool power,” one of the young girls said as she gingerly touched her cheek.

“For children’s party games, maybe. No. This one is a waste of space.” The lead woman took her sisters’ hand and the rest of them made a chain until the fifth sibling reached out and put his hand on Simon’s head.

Simon froze. His body went rigid for a protracted moment before slumping to the ground… dead.

“That’s a shame,” the woman said, staring down at Simon’s corpse. “I’d had such high hopes.”

“We don’t really have time to waste on low level purposes.”

“We don’t really know how high or low until we make contact. Well, we made contact and he left us wanting. Who’s next on the list?”

“A Medicus Naturae.”

She groaned. “Not another one of those. I find them terribly boring.”

“Well, let’s hope he’s better than ol’ Simon Says there. This dude was broken.”

“It’s a she and she’s supposed to be the real deal. Found by none other than Melika herself.”

“Oh, now that does sound promising. Melika has a reputation for attracting the more powerful beings.”

“She’s not all that,” the shorter woman said. “Everyone thinks she’s some sort of super star. I think she’s just lucky.”

“Shut. Your. Mouth,” the leader barked. “Melika is a well-respected iuvenum disciplina. I’ll not have any of you denigrating her. She has done a great deal for our kind. I agree she is a bit of a relic, but she still deserves our respect.”

“Whatever. Her whole kumbaya, give peace a chance vibe is really antiquated. Why train us only to tell us not to use our powers? It makes no sense.”

“We going after the Medicus or what?”

“No, we have been told to leave her to Templeton. He’ll be disappointed we had to fry poor Simon, but he had his chance. Templeton will understand.”

“I don’t know about that. He hates it when we destroy other supers.”

“He can’t have it both ways, you know. Our job is to recruit those who will make us stronger and destroy those who might make us weaker. Survival of the fittest and all that.”

“So far, all we’ve managed to find are broken supernaturals who use their powers for money.”

“Maybe we are not searching in the right places,” the leader said softly. “And perhaps, we ought to pay more attention to where Melika gets hers.”

As the quintuplets started out of the parking lot, the lights flickered and dimmed, leaving Simon’s still-warm body in the shadows.

CHAPTER 2

“Someone is killing our kind,” Melika said as she leaned over the large cast iron pot hanging above the firepit near the water’s edge. “I don’t like this. At all.” The diminutive Haitian straightened from the waist to address her two students sitting on a fallen tree on the bank of the bayou. “At first, we weren’t certain if their deaths were accidental, self-inflicted, or intentional, but after further investigation, it’s clear they died at the hands of someone else. Someone very powerful.”

Tomas Redhawk reached for his girlfriend’s hand and held it a little tighter than normal. “Super or natural?”

Melika sat on a log across from them; the flickering light from the fire distorting her appearance. All around, the cicadas buzzed, birds chirped, and the occasional bull frog announced his presence. “This is what we need to know. As the oldest, I am appointing you two to go into the Gulf and see what you can find out.”

“Why not someone more experienced?” Tomas asked. At twenty, he was older than his girlfriend Frankie by only two years. “I’m a good tracker and all, but this is serious business.”

“I think you going is safest. We believe the killers are uninterested in the novice supernaturals. In all eight cases here in the States, the supers who’ve been killed are over twenty-five and have shown considerable control of their powers.”

“Hold on,” Frankie said, releasing Tomas’s hand so she could tie her red hair back in a ponytail. “You said here in the States. Are we being killed elsewhere?”

Melika shook her head. “No. Not yet. A general message has been sent out to the supers across the globe. We have warned them to lie low until we can figure out what’s going on.”

Frankie returned her hand on top of Tomas’s. “Lie low? So you suspect what?”

“I do not wish to act upon suspicions, my dear, which is why sending you out to recon is merely a fact-finding mission. You are not to engage under any circumstances, Frankie. Do you understand?”

Frankie turned to look at Tomas, who was nodding. “What? You guys act like I go around beating people up.”

Tomas chuckled. “Tell that to the cop you fried when you were thirteen.”

“Or the woman you hospitalized because she called you the c-word.”

“Or—”

“All right, all right, so I’ve blown a fuse once or twice. Sue me and my hot head.”

Melika smiled. “Or nine times.” She held her hand up. “I know you better than you know yourself, my dear, and I believe you are ready to show me more self-restraint than you have in the past.”

Frankie heaved a pained sigh. “Self-restraint is overrated.”

“Frankie—”

“Just kidding. I’m down with just creepin’ around and reporting back. Anything for a change of scenery. The swamp is getting on my every last nerve.”

“I expected nothing less from you, my dear. You are a virtual unknown in our world, so if we are facing supers, you should fly under the radar.” Melika rose and scooped a battered copper ladle into the jambalaya and poured it into a bowl. Handing the bowl to Frankie, she said, “Tell the rest to prepare for dinner. We’ll be along shortly.”

Frankie hesitated.

“It wasn’t a request, Frankie.”

When Frankie took her leave, Melika sat next to Tomas. “Your feelings for her grow stronger every day.”

Tomas ate two heaping spoons of jambalaya before asking, “Have you been reading me, or can you just tell?”

Melika grinned softly. “A little of both. She is the yin to your current yang.”

Tomas blinked. “Current yang?”

“Yes. While I appreciate how you have remained behind to help me teach the younger ones, the time is coming when you will need to choose your path.”

He ate more, only slowly, savoring every taste from her family recipe. “What’s wrong with the one I’m on? I work with the young telepaths. I play soldier when the rest need to practice. I like what I do here, Mel. I’m happy.” Tomas ate more, but said nothing else.

Gazing out at the water, Melika blew out a breath. “But you are capable of so much more, Tomas. Why do you fight your leadership instincts? When will you become one with the strength of your character?”

Tomas dropped his spoon and ran his hand through his shoulder-length black hair before handing her his empty bowl. “I have become one with it, Melika, but I choose not to lead. My path is solitary.”

Melika got up and ladled a second helping of jambalaya into a huge bowl and handed it to him. “Some day, you are going to have to face him, you know. You cannot allow his decision to continually mold you into something you’re not.”

“I’m not a leader, Mel. It’s as simple as that. Leaders have personalities like Frankie. Besides…” Tomas closed his eyes. “This has nothing to do with my father.”

“Au contraire, mon ami. It has everything to do with him, but don’t worry. I’ll not push you into a role you do not wish to play. I just thought…” Her voice trailed off.

“That I would change after the Malecon incident? Well, I haven’t. Nothing I do… nothing you say… can alter the fact that I will not continue to perpetuate the aggressiveness of the tribe I was born into.” Tomas took a spoonful of the jambalaya and blew on it. “We are a peaceful nation now. I can’t… I won’t add to the list of crimes historians have attributed to us. Besides, you have Frankie. She’s really good with the young ones. Far more patient than I would ever be and you know it.”

Melika patted his shoulder. “I cannot argue with that last statement. You finish up here and I’ll go round up Marie and Daniel and have them bring in the pot. How is it, anyway?”

Tomas swallowed and grinned. “You know I think it always tastes better when cooked outside.”

“Isn’t it interesting that the same pot doing the same thing has different results depending on where it is?” Smiling, Melika started back toward the cinderblock house.

“I know why you said that!” Tomas yelled after her, grinning slightly.

Her singular response was a mild chuckle and a word that sounded an awful lot like hope.

CHAPTER 3

When the sun had almost set, Tomas met Frankie at the rickety, slightly slanted pier and hopped into a battered canoe with her backpack filled with leftovers. A similar backpack held other provisions as it hung off Tomas’s shoulder.

As Frankie pushed off in silence, Tomas got situated.

“She seems really concerned about these deaths,” Frankie said when they were far enough away from prying ears.

“I wouldn’t worry about it just yet. Supers have a short lifespan as it is. I bet half of those deaths were self-inflicted.”

“Yeah, I suppose. Like that firestarter who blew himself up. That was sad.”

Tomas grabbed a paddle and helped move the canoe along. “Firestarters rarely make it through puberty. Can you imagine how scary it would be to suddenly set part of your own body on fire and have no idea how you did it?”

“Or setting someone else on fire when you didn’t even mean to?”

“I knew a pyro once who was so tired of his ability, he walked out to the desert, closed his eyes and combusted from the inside out. How isolated and hopeless must you feel to combust yourself?”

“Certainly more frightening than hearing voices or moving objects without touching them. To be honest, talking to the dead would freak me out the most.”

“I know, right? One minute, you’re ordering a bagel and cream cheese and the next minute, someone’s dead aunt is yelling at you? No thanks.”

Frankie paused to watch an egret lift off from the swamp. “Necromancers just creep me out. Period.”

Tomas chuckled. “Point taken. So how do you want to proceed with our mission?”

Frankie pulled her paddle in and set it on her lap. “Been thinking about that. I’ve asked Mel for any contacts who were either present or arrived shortly after the bodies were found. She has files on the most recent police and medical examiner reports.”

“Damn. I had no idea she was that worried.”

“You know she keeps tabs on everything and everyone in the supernatural world. She knows a lot of good people. She’s collecting the files tomorrow and you and I can go out right after.” She leaned forward and gently rubbed his back. “You down with this?”

Tomas sighed loudly. “Yeah. I guess. It’s not like we’re gonna go toe-to-toe with anyone, super or otherwise.”

“No, but we can’t rule it out. Will you be able to pull the trigger against another super?”

“To protect you? Hell yes. I’m just unwilling to actively go after a natural. My job, right now, is to collect. And that’s what I do. I’m no hunter.”

“No, but if you were, I’d think you were the sexiest hunter alive.”

Tomas glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her. “I’m crazy about you, too, Frankie.”

“Good. Stay that way.”

Turning back around, Tomas waved to an elderly Black woman standing at the edge of a short, rundown dock. Tied to the dock was a decrepit old boat that looked like it could barely float. It appeared almost like a huge piece of driftwood.

“Tomas Redhawk, you bring de boatman his favorite food?”

Tomas held up the heavy backpack with one hand. “You know she always makes enough for Bones and you, Esmeralda.”

The older woman chuckled. “Ohh, she sure does, boy, she sure does. The boatman is always talkin’ ’bout Ms. Melika’s cookin’. It’s a good thing I know I can cook.”

Tomas reached over and grabbed the dock so they could pull alongside it. “Bones not back yet?”

“No, no. De boatman changed their poker night to tonight, but he’ll be mightily hungry when he gets home.” Esmeralda took the backpack and set it on the splintered dock. “The boatman’s bringin’ something or someone back with ’im, Tomas. Keep a listen for it.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if Bones is a boatman or a secret agent.”

Esmeralda shrugged. “Sometimes, one and the same.” Finally, she turned to Frankie. “Good to see you again Ms. Frankie. You’re takin’ good care ’o our boy, yes?”

“Of course, Esmee. I always do. Well… when he lets me.”

Esmeralda tilted her head at Frankie for a moment before taking a step back. “An’ Tomas, you watch after your girl here. The path you’re on is not a safe one.” Esmeralda reached down and grabbed the backpack straps to heft it over her shoulder. “Please thank Melika and tell her I gotta crawdad stew to make her toes curl.”

The two supernaturals sat in silence as they watched Esmeralda return to her small cinderblock house.

“Seem to you like she knows something?” Frankie asked.

Tomas waited for the weather-beaten door to close before replying. “I’ve known Bones and Esmee for six years now, and not once have I ever been able to read her.”

“But Bones isn’t one of us, right?”

“In all honesty, I have no idea what they are, but I can say this much – I’m glad they’re on our side.”

CHAPTER 4

Tomas, Frankie, and Melika stood at the end of the pier, waiting for Bones to round the bend in one of his rickety old boats. True to Esmee’s words, Bones floated effortlessly around the corner with a young teenage boy sitting erect at the front of the boat, staring straight ahead. Another, slightly older young man shielded his eyes from the sun.

“Is Bones a thousand years old?” Frankie asked.

“Forget Bones. Who the hell is that other dude?”

“Hush,” Melika commanded. “That’s Sebastian Keene.”

“The pusher?”

Melika nodded. “I called him out of Europe, where he was learning from one of the foremost pushers in Norway.”

Tomas made a chuffing sound. “I’ve heard he’s lined his pockets using his powers in the past.”

Melika waved to Bones. “Purely speculation, Tomas. No one has ever been able to verify that rumor.”

Bones did not wave or smile. He never did. He just stood at the back of the boat and pushed it along with his 10 foot ’gator getter in muted silence.

“Is that your new student?” Tomas asked about the first young man. “He’s just a baby.”

“Jenson is fourteen and that ‘baby’ is, quite possibly, one of the most powerful telekinetics in the world… or will be when I’m done with him.”

“So young…” Tomas uttered. “You know how TK’s at that age like to flex their mental muscles.”

“That’s just because you’re the old man now,” Frankie teased. “Twenty here is more like twenty in dog years.”

“Who collected him?” Tomas asked.

“O’Boyle.”

“How adept is he with his powers?”

Melika sighed. “His powers are spotty at best. Poor child brought an entire shed down on himself once – he pulled instead of pushed.”

“Ouch.”

“Read him, Tomas. Tell me what you see.”

Tomas cocked his head and slowed his breathing. “Excited, anxious, and…” he chuckled. “He’s hungry. Really hungry.”

“Aren’t we all when we get here? New Orleans just screams, EAT ME.”

“Frankie!”

Frankie bowed her head. “Sorry, Mel.”

“Stoplights, my dear, stoplights.”

Melika had told Frankie when she arrived on the bayou that she lacked stoplights between her brain and her mouth. That fact had proven to be true on many occasions and was usually the reason Frankie found herself in so many jams.

“Good to see you Bones,” Tomas said when Bones and the boat were almost to the dock.

“Thank you fer bringin’ the food,” Bones said, releasing the oars and grabbing a long stick. “Din’t have no ’gator getter the other day and nearly got tipped over.”

Tomas nodded. “Can’t remember a time when you didn’t have one.”

“Let that be a lesson fer old Bones.” When Bones pulled alongside the dock, Tomas stepped away and let Frankie help Jenson out of the boat. “Welcome to chez Melika,” Frankie said. “I’m Frankie, this beef cake is Tomas, and our guide and teacher here is Melika.”

Melika stepped up to Jenson, grabbed him gently by the chin and looked into his eyes. His red hair stuck out like straw from under an Atlanta Braves baseball cap.

“What is she doing?”

“She’s the strongest empath in the world,” Tomas explained somewhat impatiently. “She’s reading you to see how you’re feeling.”

“For real?”

Melika grinned. “For real. I know you must have a million questions, and I will answer them all, but right now, you need food, a shower, and some rest. Olga will show you to your room and get something hot in your belly.”

“I have so many questions, like who is this Bones guy? Why do you live all the way out here? How many more of you are there?”

Frankie lightly turned Jenson toward the house. “You heard the boss. Questions later.”

“But—”

“Wasn’t a request, bucko. Go on.”

Jenson started walking away, then stopped and turned back. “What does the big Indian do?”

Frankie shot a look over at Tomas before glaring at Jenson. “First off, don’t be a racist. Secondly, Tomas could drop you in less than half a second without ever laying a hand on you.”

“Oh yeah? So is he a bodyguard or something?

Tomas chuffed and rolled his eyes. “Careful, little TK. Ruffling my feathers is a bad—”

Jenson thrust his hands, palms out. A wave of pure energy surged toward Tomas, who stopped it without even blinking.

“Idea,” Tomas finished. “Did you really think your teeny tiny energy was strong enough to knock me over? Think again, little man. You have a lot to learn, which is why you’re here.”

Frankie lightly touched Tomas’s arm. “I think our new kid on the block needs to learn a little respect.”

Tomas looked questioningly over at Melika.

“Yes,” Melika said softly. “Just… not too hard.”

With nothing but a thought, Tomas brought Jenson to his knees. As Jenson sat covering his ears, Frankie walked up to him. “Look, newbie, you may have been big man on campus in Atlanta, but out here, you ain’t shit. So here’s lesson number one: Never use your powers against one of us. Capisce?” Frankie nodded to Tomas to stop.

When he did, Jenson fell forward on all fours.

“Rule number two,” Frankie said in his ear. “Never ever call Tomas Redhawk big Indian again. Are we clear?”

Jenson nodded and Frankie helped him to his feet. “Good. Your head is going to hurt for a couple of minutes, but you’ll be fine. Now, go inside and Olga will hook you up.”

Once Jenson was gone, Frankie slid her arm around Tomas’s waist. “Thank you for not hurting him too badly.”

“He’s just like all the rest, thinking they’re god’s gift to supernaturals.”

“He’s young.”

“He’s an asshat.”

Frankie laughed and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Said the pot.”

Sebastian stepped onto the pier and stuck his hand out to Tomas. “Sebastian Keene, but my friends call me Bash.”

Tomas turned his attention to Sebastian and shook his hand. “Tomas Redhawk. Welcome aboard.”

Sebastian grinned. “You’re wasting your time trying to read me, Tomas. I have extraordinarily thick shields, thanks to my secondary powers.” He turned to Frankie and offered his hand.

Frankie shook it. “And what powers are those?”

“Well, I have the ability to push images into people’s minds so they believe they’re seeing something that really isn’t there. My shield is strong because my secondary power is mimicry.”

“Oh, I’ve read about those,” Frankie said. “You can mimic voices.”

Sebastian nodded. “It’s not very useful, but my shields are stronger in order to protect me from assuming more of a person than just their voice. Mel thinks that with a little training, I’ll be able to full-on mimic someone.” He shrugged.

“Well, we sure appreciate you coming on such short notice.”

“When Mel calls…”

Melika returned her attention to her two charges. “The files for each of your targets are in this bag. Protect them with your lives if need-be. Your first stop will be Miami to obtain information from one of the deceased’s widower. Then head your way up the coast.”

Frankie took the files and hugged Melika. “Don’t you worry, Mel. We’ve got this.” To Tomas she said, “Come on, handsome.”

Melika pulled Tomas into an embrace. “Take good care of her, Tomas, and don’t let her overconfidence place you in danger.”

“What about Bash?”

“Oh, he’ll remain here with me. I have things to do in town and need someone older to work with the young ones.”

“In other words, I’m a babysitter,” Sebastian said, grinning.

“Close enough.”

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Tomas replied.

“Look for Bailey in Miami, and please, be nice. She’s changed a great deal since she started her shaman training.”

“Are they all in the South and Eastern seaboard?”

“For now, yes. There doesn’t appear to be a pattern yet, but we have spotters everywhere.”

“What does Bishop see?” Tomas asked. “Or any of the other clairvoyants? Surely someone has some sort of tip.”

Melika sighed. “My mother sees nothing specific. Lots of darkness. More than there ought to be. Whoever they are, they are powerful and know what they are doing.”

“Cloakers,” Tomas interjected. “Is that why you think it could be supernaturals?”

Melika nodded. “Yes. This feels, to Bishop, like someone is cloaking the activity, hiding their bad behavior, but none of the others will go that far out on a limb and agree with her. There hasn’t been an adept cloaker since the early twentieth century. That’s why I need you both to be especially careful. If we do have super-on-super killings, your lives are in much greater danger than if you were facing a natural. Either way, we need to find out what’s going on as soon as possible. I don’t want to be blindsided by either side here in New Orleans.”

“You want to keep us safe.”

“Of course. I can’t do that if I can’t see what’s coming. Be my eyes and ears out there, but nothing more. Understand?”

Five minutes later, as Bones pulled their boat down the river channel, Frankie held Tomas’s hand. “Is it me or does she seem more than just a little worried?”

Tomas brought Frankie’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “It’s her job to worry. It’s our job to lay that worry to rest.”

CHAPTER 5

The statuesque blonde with the body of a volleyball player and a tan to match strode confidently through South Beach, uncaring about the heads she was turning. She wasn’t here for a vacation or a Tinder hook-up or anything even remotely so normal.

She couldn’t remember the last time her life had any normal in it at all, which suited her just fine.

So, when her veterinarian sister had called, begging for her to leave her lessons from a shaman on a reservation and get to the veterinary hospital as quickly as she could, Bailey caught the first plane to Miami. Her curiosity was killing her.

As she approached the hospital’s double doors, a man wearing a white v-neck t-shirt under a navy blazer and jeans caught up to her. “Excuse me, miss?”

“Yes?” Bailey turned. It wasn’t uncommon for men to think they could just walk up on her and start a conversation.

“Did you need some help?”

Bailey took a step back. “The help I need is on the other side of those doors, so if you’ll excuse me.”

He stepped in front of her, nearly body-blocking her from the door. “But I—”

“You have two seconds to get the hell away from that door or you will be needing a hospital.”

“I’m just trying to help. You don’t have to be a bitch about it.”

“Oh, but I do.” Bailey motioned with both hands as if she were lifting something.

Immediately, from every sidewalk crack, came hundreds of ants. The man’s eyes bulged when he realized they were all marching toward him, across his trainers and up his leg.

“Jesus… what the f—?”

She pushed him out of the way and nonchalantly opened the door. “You need to work on some manners,” she said, watching him frantically slapping at his ankles. “Ciao.” Letting the door close behind her, she made her way up to the long, marble reception counter.

“Bailey! Your sister didn’t tell me you were coming or I would have put on the coffee.”

Bailey smiled. “Jean, when are you going to convince her to enter the twenty-first century and just buy a Keurig?”

Jean smiled. “I’ve tried. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Bailey didn’t have to wait long. “Hey, Heather,” she said when her sister came out the door of the clinic.

“You’re here! Thank you so much for coming so quickly.” Dr. Heather Brooks moved around the counter and wrapped her arms around her sister. “Whatever you’re doing in New Orleans suits you.” Heather stepped back and studied her. “You look great.”

“Thank you. Hard work is what I’m doing. How are you?”

“Been better. I wouldn’t have called you, but this is a real emergency.”

“As opposed to a fake one?”

Heather nodded. “I have the French Prime Minister’s daughter’s bulldog in the back, and she’s going downhill fast. You can imagine how badly I need to save that dog.”

Bailey followed her sister to the surgery room, where a black and white French bulldog lay unmoving.

“I’ve run every test I know of and I can’t find squat.”

“Panic isn’t like you, Heather. What’s up?”

Heather pet the Frenchie slowly. “I don’t want to be part of an international incident, what with such a strained relationship with the US.”

“Heather, it’s not your fault if a dog that comes through the ER has a—”

“She came to get her teeth cleaned. There was nothing wrong with her when she got here.”

“Ohhh. Okay. That sucks. So you need me to—”

Heather waved her hands in the air. “Do what you do.”

Bailey motioned for Heather to step back. “Okay. Let me have a look.”

Heather sighed loudly. “Thank you.”

“Thank me if we save her.” Placing both hands on the dog, Bailey closed her eyes. Slowly, she moved her hands over the dog’s fur, bending her head closer as if she were listening to something. “So, they brought her in to get her teeth cleaned, but the stress has gotten to her.”

“Yes, yes. And it looks like she has gastroenteritis, but that’s a symptom for a million and one ailments. I’m at a loss, Bails.”

“Right, shh.” Bailey placed her forehead on the dog’s head. “Depression, lethargy, bloody stools… Again, these are symptoms of dozens of ailments.”

Heather nodded.

“You ran blood work and a urinalysis.”

“Of course.”

Bailey shook her head. “She’s having an adrenal crisis but it’s not her adrenal glands that are the problem.” Bailey rose. “It’s hormonal. I don’t know just what or how, but—”

“I’ve got it! She needs an adrenocorticotropic hormone simulation test. Bailey, you’re brilliant.” Heather threw her arms around Bailey once more. “Thank you so much.” Heather opened the side door and ordered the test from her assistant.

“It’s been a long time since you asked for my help,” Bailey said when Heather closed the door.

“Maybe it’s because I’m a pretty damn good vet?”

“That, you are.” Bailey lightly touched her sister’s short hair. “When did you cut it?”

“A year ago. You’ve been mucking around in that swamp for a long time. Are you ever going to be done with the training?”

“Actually, sis, one is not ever really done training, but I’ll be leaving there soon.”

“You coming home?”

“No. I’m off to the Amazon for more shamanic training. I leave in a couple of months.”

“Wow. The Amazon. Does mom know?”

“Of course not. You know how she is. She refuses to accept me for who I am.”

“A supernatural animal whisperer?”

“No, you boob. Gay. Funny how she can accept me being Doctor Doolittle, but not as a lesbian. Sad, really.”

“She can’t help her Puritanical roots. Talking to animals? Didn’t Noah do that?”

Bailey chuckled. “I think it was Jesus. Anyway, your hair looks good.”

“Typical Bails, changing subjects you don’t want to discuss. Fine. I get it. Enough about mom. Are you… seeing anyone?”

Bailey smiled softly and shook her head. “I appreciate you trying for normalcy, but there’s nothing normal about me or the way I live. I’d rather not pretend everything is peachy.”

Heather’s face dropped. “I’m-I guess I never know what to say.”

“Just say thank you and you look forward to seeing me again.”

She nodded. “I miss you, you know? Ever since…” Heather hesitated, “since you told me what you are, I’ve felt like I lost my kid sister. No matter what I said or did, you read it as judgment. I can’t win with you, Bailey. Ever.”

Bailey bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Heather. I didn’t realize—”

“That I love you? That all I want is for you to be happy? I would be here for you if you just let me. I’m not Mom. I wish you’d stop treating me like I was.” Heather stepped closer. “My sister is so very special, but she won’t let me in. If I knew what I needed to do to crack open that door even just a little, I’d do it.”

Tears filled Bailey’s eyes. “You… you don’t need to do anything, Heather. Just love me for who I am and we can consider that door open.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’m not that defensive little teenager anymore. Maybe I should stop acting like one.”

“Clean slate then?”

Bailey grinned. “Clean slate. Now you’ve got a little Frenchie here who needs some TLC and I need to get a read on some strange energy I’ve been feeling since I left the hotel. Dinner later?”

“I’d love to. I’ll text you the time and place. And Bails? Thank you.”

“No worries. She’s a cute little dog.”

“I meant about our chat.”

Bailey grinned. “I know.”

CHAPTER 6

The walk back to her hotel room felt… off.

Someone was following her.

No, not just someone… two special someones who were tailing her, trying hard to go unnoticed.

Epic failure.

They had been following her since she left Heather’s. Bailey stopped suddenly to look up the French Prime Minister on her mobile.

There were several photos.

No photos of a Frenchie.

She opened a couple articles and began to walk again, slowly, looking up every few seconds to make sure she wasn’t about to crash into anything.

No mention of dogs, Frenchie or otherwise.

“Wait.” She kept reading. No pets because of the daughter’s asthma. Bailey looked up at the sky.

No pets.

None.

Had she been lured here?

She hesitated; the thought of returning to her sister was banging about in her mind, but if she had been lured to Miami to then be followed, it would be best for her to take them far away from Heather.

Closing her eyes, she tried to contact Melika, but something stopped the transmission. It was as if her thought had bounced back like a bad email.

Bailey called Heather instead. “Hey, it’s me. Do me a favor and call the cops. Tell them there were two strange men hanging around outside. Have Jim pick you up.”

“What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

“Just precautions, is all. I live in a strange world, Heather, where every day brings a new challenge. There might be a challenge out there as we speak, so it’s better to be safe, you know?”

“Okay, but are you safe?”

“As safe as I can be. Just be aware of your surroundings. Pay attention. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Bails…”

“I’ll be fine. Just precautions, you know?”

“Precautions.”

“Yeah. Who brought the Frenchie in?”

“Some guy.”

“Was he wearing a blue blazer?”

“How did you know?”

“Call the cops as soon as you hang up. You’re not in any danger, but I just want to make sure, okay? I’ll text you when all is clear.” Hanging up the phone, Bailey ducked into a shop and watched the two men pick up their pace as if they’d lost her.

“Who are you?” Bailey whispered as she stared out the pharmacy window. “Whoever you are, you’re sure as shit not ready to face me.”

She waited thirty seconds before exiting the store.

The two men were waiting.

“What the fuck do you want?” Bailey growled, clenching her hands by her side.

“You kiss your mom with that mouth?”

Bailey barely grinned. “No, but your mother sure loves it.”

The larger man, a peroxide blond with a nose piercing and eyeliner stepped toward her. “What the hell did you just say?”

Unclenching her fists, Bailey looked over blondie’s shoulder at the other man standing behind him. Before he could react, three dogs, two dragging leashes behind them, rounded the corner and leapt on the blond, knocking him to the ground.

“Must be the eau-de-asshole cologne you’re wearing. Dogs can sniff it out a mile away,” she said. “Oh, and I’d be very slow getting up. That Rottweiler right there really doesn’t like you.”

“Do something!” The blond yelled at his companion.

As his companion reached behind his waist, the feral dog attacked him, dragging him to the ground by his sleeve.

“Why are you following me?” Bailey demanded.

“Get. Them. Off. Me!”

Bailey didn’t move. “Just answer the question. What do you want?”

“We just wanted to talk.”

Bailey looked back at the two men. “If I see either of you again, I’ll be looking at two dead men.” With that, she pushed past the group and hailed a cab, calling Frankie along the way. “It’s me.”

“You still in Miami?”

“For a few more hours, yeah. I did what I came to… but someone’s following me.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Frankie, they weren’t just following me, they set me up with a pretty elaborate plan involving my sister. My sister!”

“Okay, okay. Look, Tomas and I are on our way there. Meet us at the address I’m going to text you. Were your followers supers?”

“I don’t know. Couldn’t really tell. Didn’t think about it, honestly. I’ve never had anyone but Tomas stalk me like that.”

“Well, keep your guard up.”

“I will. Who’s minding the farm?”

“Everyone else. This is on the DL, Bailey, and between me and you, Mel seems worried. We need to find out who’s killing our peeps.”

“Text me the address. I’ll see you soon.”

“And Bailey? If someone is targeting you, there’s probably no safer place than with me and Tomas.”

“Roger that. See you in a few.”

Bailey hung up and stared at her phone, waiting for the address to ding. When it did, she memorized it before deleting it. Then she texted Heather and told her everything was probably okay, but to keep her wits about her.

“What in the hell is going on here?” She muttered to herself. Who would take so much time to get a sick dog to her sister in the hopes she would call her to come to Miami?

Whoever it was, had clearly underestimated her and her powers.

“You gonna come after me, motherfucker, you best send a helluva lot more than two thugs.”

CHAPTER 7

The second Guthrie stepped into his house, he knew he wasn’t alone. His powers of detection had saved his life more than once, so immediately, his right hand flew up and out as he projected energy forward.

No sound of tumbling bodies.

No sound at all.

Turning the light on telekinetically, he set his groceries on the counter and reached for the sawed-off shotgun he kept next to the refrigerator.