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  I drove to the outskirts of town, wondering again why I bothered with these visits. I could hear Drake’s voice. “Why do you waste your time? The man probably doesn’t even know you’re there.”

  Drake Darvon was my best friend and my sparring partner. He was also a gargoyle. Real live blue-blooded in-the-flesh gargoyle. Drake didn’t realize I went because I needed to. Because something deep inside me drew me to Samuel.

  I pulled up in front of the house, a part of me refusing to enter the grand old house, the other part wanting to rush in there and take Samuel away from it all. To take him away and fix him and make him whole again. It still felt like my fault, even though everyone, including Samuel himself, insisted it wasn’t. But if I hadn’t been so persistent, if I hadn’t wanted to find my sister Arianne so badly and finally bring her body home for some closure, maybe Samuel would still be whole. Maybe he would still be around to guide me.

  Not that I needed his training anymore, though. Samuel Fontaine had once been the Master Teleporter. There was only one person who exceeded him in his ability to cross the Veils and enter the Other worlds. And that was me. A secret only Samuel and I knew.

  Both Omega and Sentinel could never be privy to that piece of information. Samuel contracted to both organizations so he was allowed on occasion to do his own search and rescue jobs. My friend Storm, benevolent caretaker of young people in need that he was, had arranged for Samuel to train me, to help perfect my teleportation, thus putting in motion a friendship of a lifetime.

  But Samuel couldn’t be hoodwinked. He’d forced me to admit my front as a simple teleporter was a sham. He’d seen beyond that facade, to my ability to astral project. Then he’d taken it upon himself to train me to teleport better. How to teleport better, faster, smarter.

  And how to astral project with more accuracy, to feel for wards, to move faster. And to this day he was the only one who knew exactly how powerful I was. How far I could jump, how strong my self-protection had become, that I’d learned to move through most magical wards.

  I rested my head on the steering wheel. Maybe I should just start the car and go home. Maybe Drake was right and coming here only made things worse for Samuel and for me. No. I punched the steering wheel, as if it was Drake arguing with me. I’d come this far. And Samuel deserved some company. I got out of the car, controlling the urge to slam the door shut. Fishing in my jacket pocket for my keys, I jogged to the porch, as if by walking any slower I would give myself the chance to change my mind.

  Beneath the elegant French columns, with their flaking paint, I hesitated only a moment before I slipped my key into the lock, the rest of the bunch jangling against each other as I moved. I was about to turn it when the giant oak door swung inward so hard I had to let go of my keys or go flying inside with them.

  Cassia stared at me, her honey-gold eyes as expressionless as she could make them. “Hello, Melisande.”

  “Hi, Cass.” The skin at her eyes tightened. She hated it when I shortened her name. But it didn’t matter. She pretty much hated everything I was and everything I stood for, all on account of the fact I ruined her life. I wasn’t in the mood for a stare down so I tugged my keys from the lock, and took special note of the dark glare Cassia gave them, as if I had no right to have them. I brushed past her and headed for the stairs.

  “He’s not taking visitors,” she said, her voice dripping ice as she pushed her tightly spiraled curls away from her face.

  I stopped, my foot on the first stair, my hand on a banister badly in need of staining, and glanced back at her. I smiled sweetly. “Well, good thing I’m not a visitor then, isn’t it?” I watched as blood rushed to her dusky cheeks. She smoothed her skirt down, tamping down her anger with the same action. I really shouldn’t bait her. She did take care of Samuel. But I could care less if she left. I’d just hire someone else to look after him. I turned my back on her and left her to stew in her fury, taking the threadbare stairs two by two, knowing even Cassia would disapprove. Poor Cassia. Samuel’s niece hadn’t inherited his teleportation powers, and being born normal into an almost entirely magical family was a great burden to bear. The problem with Cassia was she bore it with vicious anger.

  Sighing, I pushed Samuel’s door open and walked silently to the table by the window. Today, he sat in his rocking chair beside the open bay windows. White gauze curtains billowed on a soft breeze and he seemed to gaze out at the trees but I knew he saw nothing of the view. My heart twisted for him.

  I drew a rickety chair close and sat beside him. “Hello, Samuel,” I said, taking his hand in mine. His skin was paper thin, the fingers bony, muscles weak and wiry. His hand twitched as I held it and I smiled. I knew he knew when I visited.

  Samuel Fontaine was not an old man. He was in his late thirties, not the age of a man who should be lingering in a rocking chair. I stared at his once handsome face, high cheekbones now jutting out too far, and gorgeous green eyes now faded to a pale luminous non-color.

  But sexy Samuel’s been gone a long, long time. Ever since his brain got scrambled doing a jump for me

  What a way to go. My fingers tightened on his and I had to force myself to remember his frailty. I began to pull away when his fingers gripped mine with an intensity I hadn’t felt in months. My heart stuttered as I stared at him, eyes wide.

  “Mel?” his voice rasped, as if he hadn’t used it in years.

  “Samuel? Yes, it’s me.” I nodded and smiled, tears threatening to overflow.

  He blinked, his expression slightly unfocused. Then he frowned. “Are you eating? You look skinny.”

  I snorted. “Don’t worry about me. It’s you we are concerned about. We need you back Sam-sam.” I leaned close and he placed a palm on my cheek. The curtains billowed into the room, white clouds surrounding us in this impossible dream.

  “I know, baby. But I’m not done yet,” he said, smiling. “The girl . . . She needs me.”

  My stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”

  A few seconds of silence crawled by as Samuel studied my face with far away pale green eyes. “Patience, Melisande. And don’t forget what I taught you,” he said softly, his voice fading. “Don’t forget . . .”

  “Samuel?” I called him, but I knew he was already gone and my heart ached for him.

  “He spoke to you?” Cassia’s voice rang out, so bitter and cold it dropped the temperature in the room by a few degrees. Maybe the woman was magical after all.

  “Yes.” I whispered, still holding on to his hand. He’d spoken. He was still there. And what had he meant? ‘I’m not done yet?’ What did that mean?

  “What did he say?” Her question broke through my thoughts, an angry tide breaking onto my happy, grateful shore.

  I looked up at Cassia and grinned. “He said I was skinny. And he told me not to forget what he’d taught me.” I didn’t see any reason to tell her the rest. I suspected she’d overheard the last of Samuel’s words so that’s just what I gave her.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Cassia snapped, her honey eyes flashing. “He hasn’t been lucid for months, and you waltz in and he just talks to you out of the blue and says don’t forget what he taught you?” She snorted, hands on her hips, eyes wide. “Who the hell do you think you are? You just come in here whenever you feel like, say whatever you want and then leave him to me? Who do you think looks after him? And he talks to you?” Her laugh was hoarse, underlined by a deep bitterness.

  I watched Cassia, her anger an almost palpable thing. She was struggling with her own burdens but all I wanted to do was to slap her as hard as I could across the face.

  “You know what? I’m a bit tired of your whining and moaning. I know you’ve had it tough but we all have our own bloody demons to deal with. As far as I’m concerned you can just suck it up.” The color drained from her skin and I was certain she wasn’t sure whether to be shocked, upset or angry. “Take Samuel for instance, he’s way worse off than you. Maybe someday we will have him back—from what h
e said today, I am hoping his condition is temporary and wherever he is he’s okay and he will come back. But until then we have to wait. So quit feeling sorry for yourself. If you feel this is all too much and looking after Samuel is a burden, then by all means leave. I’m sure we can find someone else to take care of him.”

  I’d never voiced my opinion to Cassia before. I’d always steered clear of her, left her to her anger. Now, in the face of my words and my own fury, she seemed startled, unsure of herself.

  “You can’t make me leave.” She lifted her chin.

  Really? After everything I said, that was all she got? “I’m not making you leave, Cassia. I’m just saying if you aren’t happy taking care of Samuel, we can find someone else.” I was careful to use the word ‘we’. A gentle reminder that my presence here was with the kind permission of Samuel’s extended family. Not that I needed their permission, but they had eased Cassia into accepting me in the house and I appreciated that.

  Now, I watched Samuel’s niece as she considered my words. She didn’t respond and for Cassia, being short of words was unusual. Then she turned abruptly on her heel and left the room.

  “Well, I suppose I got my answer, then,” I said to myself.

  Samuel chuckled and when I glanced at him, a little shocked, my heart sank with disappointment at the blank expression in his eyes. Then he tilted his head and stared out the window. Sighing, I got to my feet and kissed his cheek. Then walked out of the room and left him there alone again.

  As I drove, all I could think about were Samuel’s words.

  I’m not done yet. The girl . . . She needs me.

  Blood Magic Ch2

  Saleem

  I shifted in my seat. It felt like I was sitting on a rock rather than the supposedly comfortable seat in Chief Roger Murdoch’s office at the Chicago police station. I eyed Pete Fulbright who commandeered the seat beside me, his stomach making him look more like a whale every time he breathed.

  I didn’t like the guy I’d been assigned to. Didn’t appreciate his attitude toward his job or toward his investigations. But I was going to give Pete Fulbright the benefit of the doubt. And I supposed my own presence would do some good in allaying suspicions that Chief Murdoch wasn’t taking full responsibility for Fulbright’s investigation of a paranormal operative.

  Fulbright’s sudden aggressive interest in Melisande Morgan had caught the attention of the Supreme High Council, and because of their already established working relationship with the CPD they’d asked Omega, instead of their own investigative unit Sentinel, to look into it.

  Omega and Sentinel, both powerful paranormal agencies, were interested in a rash of paranormal disappearances in the last six months, something that seemed to also have caught Fulbright’s attention.

  “So, I trust you will ensure Saleem here has full access to all our Missing Person’s files?” Chief Murdoch said as he rose from his seat.

  Fulbright reddened as he stood, his back ramrod straight. “Of course, Chief.”

  After he stalked out of the office and shut the door with a click, I turned to Murdoch. “I don’t need those files you know?” Chances were Omega’s files on the disappearances were much more substantial than what Fulbright could come up with.

  Murdoch smiled from beneath his mustache. “Of course I know that. It’s just better that Fulbright doesn’t.” The Chief sat, his massive frame threatening to crush his creaking chair.

  “So what has he been up to?” I glanced through the window at the warren of desks. Fulbright stood at one of them, flipping through a stack of files while repeatedly glancing at Murdoch’s glassed-in office. Fulbright’s stomach rose from mid-chest and hung low on his hips, so low over his waistband the man needed suspenders to hold his pants up. Not that body image bothered the detective at all.

  “Investigating all of Mel’s cases but especially focusing on the abductions and deaths involving paranormals. I don’t know how, but he’s managed to hone in on the paranormal cases too well for my comfort. Ask him yourself. He doesn’t mind sharing his suspicions.”

  I nodded and left the Chief’s office, heading to the two desks that sat facing each other. A floor to ceiling window looked out onto traffic and block after block of aging high-rises.

  I sat and the sound of the chair brought Fulbright’s head swiveling toward me. Fulbright did not expect a conversation with me. In fact, he’d made it clear enough he didn’t have much respect for me or my presence. He’d barely glanced at me since he’d arrived.

  I knew what that meant. Race always played a big part in heightening emotions. But I didn’t care. It was bad enough my Persian descent was clear in my deep olive skin, dark hair and black eyes. As far as my appearance went, Fulbright had me pegged. But imagine if this normal human realized he had a bloody Djinn sitting next to him. A real, honest to goodness genie. He’d be off searching for a lamp so fast I would probably choke on his dust.

  Silencing a snort, I sneaked a glance at my partner. I shifted in my seat again. Time to find out a little more of what made the whole Fulbright-Morgan relationship tick. “So what’s the deal with you and Mel Morgan anyway?” I asked, pasting on the innocent rookie face I’d practiced with my team-leader, Logan Westin, yesterday.

  Fulbright gave me an impatient glare as he stacked his files in a pile and pushed them aside. The detective took a deep breath, grunted. “Just something about her that doesn’t add up. Her ability to find people when we can’t is strangely coincidental. Most of the cases we close out as unsolved, end up in her lap. And she solves them. Finds the people, dead or alive.”

  “And you find that strange how?” The sounds of the office hummed around them. I had my own reasons for being here, for watching Mel Morgan and the more I knew about her the better.

  “Nothing I can put my finger on really. Just strange.” Fulbright was being reticent and I understood. Most cops didn’t like Omega or Sentinel.

  I stared out the window for a moment then looked at my new partner. Fulbright shifted and threw me an annoyed glare.

  “It’s an old case, nine years to be exact. A kid went missing. House trashed. Blood everywhere, parents’ throats slit. And this Morgan kid standing there, covered in blood not saying a word. Then we found there’s a kid missing; Morgan’s younger sister Arianne. From the blood and the condition of the house we knew the chances the girl was alive were slim to none, and Morgan was the main suspect. Case closed.” Fulbright shook his head.

  “So why keep an eye on her now?” I couldn’t keep the criticism from my voice but Fulbright was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t even seem aware.

  “I’ve been looking at the files. And she’s just too good at her job to be . . . normal.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “And this friend of hers you are investigating?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

  “A guy named Samuel Fontaine.” I went cold. Samuel, the Master tracker. So Fulbright was on the paranormal trail after all. I just had to find out how much he knew.

  I’d heard of Fontaine. Powerful Mage trackers were rare. Which is why almost every available paranormal tracker was on both Omega’s and Sentinel’s contractor lists. Including Melisande Morgan. And Fontaine. Until he’d toasted his gray cells on a jump.

  If Morgan’s paranormal identity was blown, everyone else would soon follow. Fulbright was more dangerous than he could ever imagine.

  The detective snorted, reminding me of the unpleasant presence of the other man. I didn’t want to talk to him anymore so I started up the computer and logged into Omega to give my report.

  # End of BLOOD MAGIC Excerpt #

  READ THE SERIES

  The SoulTracker Series (A DarkWorld Series)

  Blood Magic

  Demon Kin

  Blood Curse

  Demon Soul

  Blood Moon

  Demon Bones

  SoulTracker Box Set - Books 1-3

  The SoulTracker Series

  De
ad Radiance - A Valkyrie Novel 1 Sample Chapters

  Dead Radiance - Chapter 1

  I was cold, like the roses on Joshua’s casket, like the muddy dark-brown soil waiting to embrace the lifeless remains of the boy who was my friend.

  My fingers curled around the stem of a butter-yellow rose, knuckles tight. I blinked away the liquid burn stabbing my eyelids. I had to get out. Give him the rose. Then get the hell away.

  I tried to squeeze past the old woman who guarded my route to the center aisle, glaring. Her stares slithered down my neck as I passed. I shuffled by, careful not to touch her. But she huffed, her shoulders stiff and unimpressed with my rudeness. Her disapproval slid down my back.

  I straightened my pencil skirt and short coat, scraped my wet hands on my hips. I knew the cool black silk wouldn’t dry my sticky palms, but I did it anyway, needing to do something with my hands other than clutch the dead flower.

  The slim heels of my pumps sank deep into wet ground. I jerked them free and swallowed, my throat aching with tears. My best friend would soon be entombed within this sodden mush, to lie beneath Craven forever. Until his flesh fell off his bones and he turned to dust.

  A cool hand tapped my shoulder.

  “Bryn Halbrook. “ She spat my name, each syllable harsh, and dripping venom to match the tiny emerald flecks in her hazel eyes. “You’ve got some nerve coming here.” Cherise Barnes knew she looked good, even in drab funerary garb. She stood, a bony hip jutting out, one foot forward. The Cherise pose.

  The last thing I needed was a bitch-match. Not here. I straightened, pulling my jacket closer in the face of this poisonous storm. Her eyes widened as I drew to my full height. Guess Cherise forgot it wasn’t easy to intimidate a person who was a full head taller. I stared down at her.