Velvet Haven (5 page)

“Someone with a lot of time, and a place where he knew he wouldn’t get caught.”

“Where’d you find her?”

“On Sanctuary, in the middle of the road. The guy who nearly drove over her with his minivan stopped and called 911.”

“Was she dressed?”

“Nope. She was lying on the ground, spread-eagle on an inverted pentagram that had been drawn on the road in chalk. Her belongings were dumped on the sidewalk.”

Mairi pressed her eyes shut. “And she was still alive.”

“Barely.”

Exhaling, she looked at the young girl’s body. “I write a report and file it every time I counsel the girls. You’ll find my report at Our Lady.”

He nodded, reached in his pocket, and unwrapped a piece of gum. “Do you remember offhand what you talked about?”

A shiver caught her unaware and she couldn’t hide it before the detective saw. He was studying her as he popped the gum in his mouth.

“We talked about a man she had met,” Mairi said. “She said his name was Aaron. She seemed . . . happy. She said he was nice. Treated her right. Took her out to dinner and bought her stuff.”

“He was older?”

“Yeah. But it’s common for these girls to look for older men. They want security. To know they can be taken care of.”

Mairi shivered again. The similarities were there: the same name, the same age. But Mairi had nothing more to go on, no proof that Lauren’s Aaron had been the same Aaron who had stalked and terrified the hell out of her friend Rowan two months ago. It
could
be coincidence that both Rowan and Lauren had met a man named Aaron. Still, Mairi found herself wondering if Lauren had met her Aaron while he was visiting his niece at Our Lady, just like Rowan had.

The detective coughed, catching her attention. “Ah, she didn’t happen to mention anything about being into the kinky stuff, did she?”

Mairi shook her head. “But I know she was into the rave scene. She and another friend used to sneak out of the house and down to the dockyards to the warehouse district. It’s only a block away from the home. I’m sure that’s where she met up with this guy.”

“You ever seen this?” He was holding up what appeared to be a bud of some sort. Mairi took it, knowing right away what it was.

“Thorn-apple. It’s a deadly narcotic, part of the nightshade family. It’s hallucinogenic and it apparently heightens sexual arousal.”

“And how do you know that, Miss MacAuley?” the detective asked with a smile.

“You wouldn’t believe the shit that crosses this threshold, Detective. I’ve seen just about everything, and drugs that get people off are the least of the weird. Trust me.”

He laughed, then reached for his pad. “Do ravers use this?”

“Along with neo-pagans, occultists, rich people looking for a rush, and kids trying to be cool by experimenting.” Mairi paused. “Any chance that goth club over in the East End might have something to do with this? It’s close to Our Lady, and it’s the right sort of scene for drugs like this.”

“Velvet Haven?” he asked, obviously surprised. “I doubt it. The owner, Rhys MacDonald, is careful to stay within the law. He gets raided regularly and we never find anything. Besides, she’s obviously underage. She’d never get past security there.”

“She would if she was with a VIP member.”

“Not at Velvet Haven she wouldn’t. I know MacDonald. He doesn’t want trouble. Customers who are VIPs are given that privilege because they don’t cause shit. VIP status isn’t bought like at other clubs. It’s given, by him. That’s how he keeps things in line.”

“You hear stories,” she murmured, trailing off. “I just thought—”

“Yeah, well. It’s just a bunch of freaks getting their rocks off playing dress up. There certainly isn’t any of this crazy shit going on,” he grumbled, waving his hand toward the body. “I can tell you that much.”

Shoving his notebook into his pocket, he said, “I’m heading over to Our Lady in the morning to check her file. If I have any more questions I’ll be in touch. If you think of anything that might help us, anything she might have said, give me a call.” He handed her his business card, his brow arching when she took it with her right hand, leaving her scarred wrist safely out of grabbing distance. Thankfully, he didn’t comment or question her further; he just turned on his heel and left her alone with the dead body of Lauren Brady.

God, what a waste.
Mairi reached into the stainless-steel cupboard for a white plastic body bag. Pulling on a pair of gloves, she touched the cold, lifeless body, positioning Lauren so the bag could slide beneath her. Her exam glove rolled down slightly, and Mairi’s warm wrist touched Lauren’s cool chest.

She hissed and jumped back. The body had . . . burned her. How was that possible? She looked at the symbol that had been carved between Lauren’s breasts and then at her wrist as she felt the burning give way to a painful tingling, like a bee sting. Her wrist was red, the scars as prominent as they had been when they were fresh.

Louise poked her head around the curtain. “Want some help?” Mairi gasped and whirled around. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“It’s all right,” she rasped, sliding the cuff of her jacket down over her wrist. “You just surprised me, that’s all.”

Louise arched her brow, but let the comment slide. “I’ll have someone come in to prep the body for the coroner.”

“I’ll do it.”

With her hands on her hips, Louise arched her brows. “Five minutes ago you were bellyaching that you were on break.”

“I know. Get Vicky to cover for me, and I’ll do this.”

“You want some help? It’s creepy as hell doing death care by yourself.”

“I’m good,” Mairi whispered. “I . . . kind of knew her.”

Louise glanced at the body. “Poor child. What the hell is this world coming to? You know, the cops that came in here told me she’s the ninth one this month, but she’s the only one that was carved up like a turkey.”

“Yeah,” Mairi murmured as she rubbed the elastic cuff against her wrist to relieve the stinging. “The whole world is fucked up, isn’t it? Maybe it’s a sign, Lou.”

“A sign of what?”

“The beginning of the end.”

The shop bells tinkled as Mairi pushed open the door, and Rowan looked up from the magazine she was thumbing through. “Hey, I was just thinking of you, and here you are!”

“Disturbing. I hate it when you do that.”

Rowan laughed and closed the magazine, then tossed it onto the end of the counter by the cash register. “So, you just missed two of the hottest guys on the planet.”

“Yeah?” Mairi drawled, looking around her friend’s New Age store. “Was one of them your weekly Tarot Guy?”

Rowan flushed. Mairi swore that even the tips of Rowan’s short blond hair glowed pink. “Uh-huh. He brought a friend this morning. Double the visual pleasure.”

“Thought you swore off men for a while after the disaster that was Aaron.”

“Yeah.” Rowan sighed. “Still, it can’t hurt to look and . . . dream. It’s good for your mental health.”

Mairi knew all about dreaming. Her subconscious had been conjuring up a hunk for the past couple of weeks. Man, the things the guy could do with his hands and tongue.

“So, what’d Tarot Guy buy this week?” she asked, making a beeline for the bookcase. Rowan watched her with interest as she scanned the Occult section of the case.

“His usual. A tarot deck. I swear, the guy must have hundreds. He says he gets different vibes from different decks so he has to have a lot to choose from to get the right reading. Today he picked out this really creepy black magick deck. The pictures were gruesome.”

Mairi whirled around. “What do you mean, gruesome?”

“Well, really dark. Morbid, with a sexual edge. Normally, I don’t carry that kind of stuff. Brings bad karma and energy, but it came by mistake. I had it on the counter, ready to pack up and send back to the supplier, but he saw it and went through the deck. I guess he liked what he saw because he bought it.”

“I wonder what he wanted it for.”

“Tarot readings.”

“Well, duh, I know that,” she snapped, turning back to the bookcase. “Ro, you got anything on satanic symbols?”

“Why, did you have that dream again?”

This was when Mairi really hated the fact she had confided in Rowan about her strange dreams. Rowan was just way too in tune with people and the shit they tried to hide. Maybe her friend really was psychic.

“Okay, I’ll take the silence as a yes. And, no, I don’t do satanic stuff. Enchantment is a New Age store with
positive
energy.”

“Okay, then, help me out, Glinda the Good Witch. Tell me what these mean.”

Pulling a piece of paper from her purse, Mairi set it in front of Rowan. It was a poorly drawn sketch of Lauren, complete with the symbols and their locations on her body. Rowan looked up, the sparkle in her jade-colored eyes gone.

“Is this what you dreamed about?”

Mairi swallowed hard. “If I tell you, you have to swear you won’t breathe a word. It’s confidential.”

“Well, it’s wearing on you, Mairi. You look exhausted. You can’t keep it in. And of course, I won’t tell a soul. We’re best friends.”

Mairi nodded. “Last night, one of the girls from Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow arrived in the ER. She was found lying half dead on a chalk drawing of an inverted pentagram. Those marks”—Mairi pointed to the drawing—“were
carved
on her body.”

“Oh, God!”

“And worse, I counseled her last week. She had my card. And I . . . I remember her.” And worst of all, Mairi had dreamed of those symbols weeks ago, the night she started having the strange dreams of
him
. The guy with the magic hands and mouth.

“You’re creeped out,” Rowan murmured. “Look at you, you’re shaking.” Reaching for her hand, Rowan pulled Mairi around the counter and offered her a stool.

“A bit unnerved, yeah,” she replied with a shaky laugh.

“I have a pot of herbal tea all ready to go. Let me get you a cup.”

“You don’t need to wait on me.”

Her friend just glared. “I’m not an invalid—yet. Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of opportunity to wait on me hand and foot next week after they operate on my brain. God only knows what will be left of me then. And you can be damn sure I’ll milk it for all it’s worth.”

“That’s not funny,” Mairi snapped. “That tumor is going to be benign and you’re going to be perfect.”

“Well, I’ll have a bad haircut, that’s for sure.” With a laugh, her friend disappeared behind the purple satin curtains.

She shouldn’t be burdening Rowan with her problems, not when her friend was so sick. But Mairi had nowhere to turn. No one who would understand like Rowan understood. There was something almost ethereal about her friend. She virtually radiated goodness and light.

As Mairi sat quietly waiting for Rowan to return, she pulled up the sleeve of her denim jacket. Her wrist was still tingling, the kind that happened after a sunburn, when the skin started to heal. She scratched, watching the old, faded white streaks turn pink. Ever since last night, when she’d touched Lauren, that patch of scarred skin had felt strange. Kind of . . . Mairi swallowed as she looked down at the marks, which were now a brighter pink, despite the fact that she’d stopped scratching them. That patch of skin almost felt . . .
alive
.

“Sweet, just how you like it.”

Mairi shoved her sleeve back down and straightened in her stool. No way was she going to come clean about her wrist.

Rowan passed her a delicate pink china teacup and saucer. Under her arm, she carried a black leather book, its pages edged in gilt. “Okay, let’s see what we can find here,” Rowan muttered. “Symbols . . .” Licking her fingers, she flipped through the pages. “The placement on the body has to be as important as the symbols themselves,” she mumbled as she thumbed through the book. “That’s part of any ritual, getting the placement right.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Just sip your tea.” Rowan winked at her. “Okay, here,” she said, drawing her finger down the page as she glanced at the drawing. “So, these symbols. They aren’t necessarily satanic. They’re occult.”

“And the difference would be?”

“Well, it’s not a devil worshipper, so you can get that thought out of your head, but there is magick involved. Both dark and light, I sense.”

Swallowing her tea, Mairi prayed the symbols she dreamed about were of the light variety.

“The pentagram on her . . .”

“Pubis,” Mairi supplied.

“Well, the pentagram can be innocuous. It really just represents the five elements—water, air, fire, you know, that sort of thing. Sometimes the circle surrounding it can represent the sixth element, which pagans call the element of self.”