Poison Fruit (7 page)

Moving with inhuman speed, Cody let out a growl and lunged through the sliding glass door, catching Scott by the waist of his drawstring pajama pants. I’d like to say I was there in a flash to back him up, but it was Dawn who helped him wrestle her husband into the bedroom. Cody kept his face averted, and I hoped she was distracted enough not to notice.

“Are yuh shot?” she asked Scott with professional efficiency. “Lemme see.”

His teeth were chattering. “I’m okay.”

“It’s all right,” Cody said, his voice sounding muffled as he retrieved the pistol and examined the balcony. “The bullet went straight down.”

“Yuh idiot!” Dawn clutched Scott’s shoulders, tears in her voice. “Yuh goddamn idiot!”

“I know,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. Oblivious to the world, they held each other.

“Well, then.” The chief hitched up his belt. “Daisy, Cody, it looks like you’ve got yourself a case.”

A few days ago, I would have been glad to hear it. Today, I stifled a sigh.

Great.

Seven

C
ody and I took another statement from Scott Evans. It was identical to the first one, except that this time he’d broken the paralysis to fight back; or at least he thought he had, until he awoke to find himself throttling his wife.

“So what happens now?” he asked us, an afghan blanket wrapped around him.

“Ideally, I’d suggest you get out of town until we find the Night Hag,” I said. “The eldritch need a functioning underworld to enable
their magic, and she shouldn’t be able to operate outside of Hel’s territory. Is there anyone you can stay with well outside the city limits?”

Scott and Dawn exchanged a glance. He shook his head. “No one I can think of. I’ve got family, but they’re in town.”

“A hotel?”

“We’re still waitin’ on the VA to approve Scott’s claim fer disability benefits,” Dawn murmured in an apologetic tone. “Yuh said a horseshoe would do, didn’t yuh?”

“Yeah, but it’s just a general precaution,” I warned her. “It might not be enough, and I need to do more digging to know exactly what we’re
dealing with. As far as I know, there’s never been a Night Hag in Pemkowet before.”

Scott grimaced. “It’s probably my goddamn nightmares that brought her here.”

“It’s possible.” I didn’t want to lie to him. “Do you know the Sisters of Selene? The occult store?”

“By the coffee shop?” he asked. “I’ve seen it.”

I nodded. “It opens at eleven. I’ll call Casimir and give him a heads-up, tell him you need whatever he’s got to ward off a powerful fey predator.”

“A fey predator,” he repeated. “All right.”

“You should consult with your doctor, too,” Cody suggested gently. “You’re under a lot of stress.”

“Yeah.” Scott rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I know. There’s a reason the bitch came for
me
, right?” Dropping his hands, he glanced up at Cody. “So what the fuck are
you
?”

Cody missed a beat. “Excuse me?”

“I saw your face, man. When you caught me.” Beneath the afghan, Scott’s shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “Look, I owe you. I could have broken my neck. But either I’m crazy or I’m not, and either way, I’d like to know. I saw your face, and there were way too many goddamn pointy teeth in it. So what are you?”

A long silence stretched between them. I held my tongue and avoided meeting Dawn’s inquiring look.

A muscle twitched in Cody’s jaw. “Werewolf.”

Holy crap, Officer Down-low had actually admitted it, out loud, to an ordinary human being.

“No shit!” Scott sounded admiring. “Does it run in the family? I went to high school with your brother Caleb. I always wondered what the deal was with that guy.”

Cody didn’t answer.

“Ohh-kay,” I said. “Remember Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell? Stupid policy, I know. But the eldritch community has a code.”

“So it ain’t polite to ask questions,” Dawn observed. “And yuh don’t want us to say nuthin ’bout Officer Fairfax.”

“Right.”

Scott nodded. “No problem.”

After finishing with the Evanses, Cody and I retreated to the parking lot. A few residents of neighboring apartments came out to ask about the gunshot. After reassuring them it was an accidental discharge and no one had been harmed, we took the opportunity to ask if anyone had seen a strange elderly woman in the vicinity. Unfortunately, no one had. We went door-to-door throughout the rest of the apartment complex, accomplishing nothing more than annoying anyone who hadn’t been awakened by a stray gunshot at that hour.

“I’m not surprised,” Cody said when we sat in his squad car to compare notes, strategize, and pretend it wasn’t incredibly awkward to be working together this soon after he’d broken things off with me. “Whatever was in that bedroom, it didn’t leave a scent.” He glanced at me. “Are you sure about this, Daise?”

I shrugged. “
Something
was there. The chief’s watch has never been wrong. Do all eldritch have a scent?”

“So far, yeah.”

“Do I?” I couldn’t help but ask. “I mean, other than an ordinary human scent?”

Cody gave me another sidelong look. “Yeah. Yeah, you do. There’s sort of a . . . hint of brimstone.”

“Oh, yuck!” I made a face. “Like sulfur? Rotten eggs?”

“No, no!” He shook his head. “It’s not like that. You know how perfumes sometimes have those weird notes that might be unpleasant
on their own, but—” I stared at him. He sighed. “You smell good, Daisy. Trust me.”

“Thanks.” Given the sort of odors that most dogs I knew found appealing, it occurred to me that Cody might not be the best judge. “I hope that’s your human side speaking.”

He flashed a grin at me. “Afraid you smell like something I might want to roll around in, Pixy Stix?”

“Something like that.” Dammit, teasing wasn’t fair! I managed to avoid giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. “Look, if no one in Beechwood Grove saw anything, I don’t think there’s any point in
canvassing further, and your shift’s probably about over. Why don’t you let me do some research, and we’ll talk later?”

“Deal.”

I hesitated. “Hey, I’m proud of you for what you did in there.” I nodded toward the Evans apartment. “Owning it like that.”

“Thanks.” That muscle in Cody’s jaw gave another little twitch, but his gaze was steady and open. “Let me know what you find out.”

Back in my own trusty little Honda, I called Casimir, aka the Fabulous Casimir. In addition to being the owner and proprietor of the Sisters of Selene, Casimir was also the head of the local coven. Despite the early hour, he was already up. I could hear him puttering around in his kitchen as we spoke, probably clad in something like an exotic caftan. Casimir claims his cross-dressing is part of a shamanic tradition, which very well may be true, but he takes a lot of pride and pleasure in it, too.

The good news was that Casimir was confident that he had charms and protection spells in stock to deter any manner of predatory fey. The bad news was that he didn’t know anything about Night Hags in particular and could neither confirm nor deny their actual existence.

“Sorry, dahling,” he apologized. “I’ve known more than my fair share of hags, but not this kind.”

I smiled. “That’s okay. I’ve got other resources. Thanks for taking care of the Evanses.”

He blew me a kiss over the phone. “Anytime, Miss Daisy.”

I tried calling Lurine, the resource I had in mind. When my call
went to voice mail, I decided to drive over to her place anyway. I’d known Lurine since I was scarce out of diapers—she used to babysit for me when she lived two doors down from Mom and me in Sedgewick Estate—and I figured there was a good chance she was already up too, and simply not answering her phone. Of course, given the cold weather, there was an equal chance that she’d been asleep for several days. Lurine’s schedule didn’t exactly conform to mortal circadian rhythms.

Either way, it was worth a try.

Lurine’s mansion out on Lakeshore Drive was a far cry from the mobile home she’d lived in when I was growing up. The sky was just
beginning to pale in the east as I pulled up to the gated drive and pressed the button on the intercom.

“Yes?”

“Hi, Edgerton,” I greeted her trusty and discreet butler or manservant or whatever the hell he was called. “It’s Daisy Johanssen. Is, um, Ms. Hollister available?”

There was a pause. “Ms. Hollister is enjoying a swim.”

“She’s in the pool?” I didn’t know why that would matter. I’d spent plenty of time poolside with Lurine. Never in November, mind you, but she could afford to keep her pool heated year-round. “Can you ask her if she’d mind if I stopped by?”

“I’m sure she would be delighted,” he said in a formal tone. “But I’m afraid Ms. Hollister isn’t in the
pool
.”

Oh.

“Thanks, Edgerton,” I said.

I put the Honda in park and got out, slinging my messenger bag across my chest. Lurine’s place was on the east side of the road, situated inland in the woods and safely away from the eroding bluffs, but her property came with lakefront access. On the west side of Lakeshore Drive, a long zigzagging wooden staircase broken up by a series of platforms led to the beach below.

I crossed the road, turned up the collar on my black leather motorcycle jacket, and began the long descent, taking care on the sleet-slick steps. The wind was bone-chillingly cold, but at least it appeared to be driving away the clouds. Lake Michigan’s iron-gray surface was ruffled
with wavelets. I couldn’t begin to imagine swimming in it on a cold November day, but then, I wasn’t a lamia.

Halfway down, a distant glimmer of green and gold and blue caught my eye. I paused on one of the platforms to take in the scene.

Lurine was swimming some fifty yards from the shore, undulating coils gleaming with rainbow hues whenever they broke the surface. Pale, silvery forms darted around her—naiads or undines or nixies; I couldn’t tell at this distance.

Whatever they were, it was an incredible sight. As the sun rose above the tree line behind me, laying a shining golden path on the gray water,
Lurine and her coterie of water elementals surfaced to greet it with a burst of song, a shimmering chorus that made me shiver to the bone with its unearthly beauty.

The bell-like notes hung in the morning air after they finished, fading slowly, until an aching sense of loss filled me. I found my feet moving unbidden, carrying me down the slippery stairs with reckless abandon.

Alas, the water elementals scattered, dispersing in silver flashes.

“Wait!” I cried out in despair. “Don’t go!”

Out in the lake, Lurine cocked her head. “Daisy? Is that you?”

“Yeah! I’m coming!” I called to her, crossing the expanse of driftwood-strewn sand.

“Oh, for God’s sake. Stay where you are, cupcake.” Lurine plunged beneath the water, arrowing for the shore.

Ignoring her order, I kept going. I didn’t have a single thought in my head beyond an overwhelming desire to hear those glorious voices again. I was knee-deep in Lake Michigan when Lurine surfaced a few yards away, water streaming from her golden hair and naked human torso.

“Okey-dokey, baby girl.” The coils of her tail encircled my waist, plucking me out of the frigid water. “Snap out of it.”

“I just—” I blinked. “Whoa. Did I just walk into the lake?”

“Mm-hmm.” Lurine looked amused. “Now you know why thousands of sailors have plunged to their watery doom over the years.” She gave me an affectionate squeeze, those sleek, muscular coils capable of
crushing a grown man to death contracting around my waist with suggestive intimacy. “You should be more careful, cupcake.”

“Lurine!” I protested. “Put me down, will you?”

She stroked my cheek with the tip of her tail. “Aw, you’re blushing! That’s just adorable.”

Okay, so there are probably plenty of people in the world who have a little bit of a crush on their ex-babysitters—yes, fine, I’m willing to admit it—but I might be the only one whose attraction is only operative when said ex-babysitter is in the form of a millennia-old mythological creature whose lower half looks like the love child of an anaconda and a rainbow.

I closed my eyes, blocking out the sight of those iridescent coils and trying to ignore the fact that they were still firmly wrapped around my waist, smooth scales sliding against the leather of my jacket . . . damn.

“I’m here on business, okay?” My voice sounded feeble.

“Oh, fine.” Lurine deposited me effortlessly on the shore. I cracked open one eye and watched her shift into her human form. She waded out of the lake, wringing the water out of her hair. “What is it?”

Now that I wasn’t warm with inappropriate thoughts and embarrassment, I realized that my knee-high black leather boots—which had been a splurge purchase, dammit—were filled with icy lake water. My feet were freezing and my teeth were chattering. “Can we talk about it inside?”

“Of course.” Lurine stepped into a pair of baby pink Juicy Couture sweatpants. “Hand me my jacket, will you?”

Eight

U
p at the mansion, Lurine turned maternal on me, wrapping me in a blanket and insisting I drink a cup of hot tea. She even sent my sodden boots off with her butler to be dried with one of those fancy Sharper Image–type appliances. I didn’t know anyone actually bought those things. “What were you thinking, Daisy?” she chided me. “You shouldn’t have been out there.”

I sipped the tea. “Edgerton said you’d be delighted. I assume he didn’t know I’d be crashing some sort of sirens’ dawn choral practice?”

“True,” she admitted. “My bad. But in all fairness, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I didn’t know you sang,” I said. “Not like
that
.”

Lurine gave a modest shrug. “A girl’s got to have some secrets, cupcake. So what’s up?”

I told her about Scott Evans and his dilemma. “So what’s your verdict on Night Hags? Real or not real?”

“Oh, they’re real,” Lurine assured me. “They’re also part of humanity’s collective unconscious, which is why mortals anywhere might think they’ve experienced an attack. But here in Pemkowet, yeah, it was probably an actual hag.” She shuddered. “Nasty, smelly creatures.”