The Coveted (The Unearthly)
Thalassa, Laura
Chapter 1
Leaves crunched underfoot as Catherine O’Connor walked over to her bag and shoved the sprig of hemlock into it, right next to the mugwort and meadowsweet.
Now all I need is lilac, and then I can get out of here.
She moved her flashlight back over the woods. Beyond the beam of light the shadows seemed to gather and sway. She ignored the way her heart thumped and her pulse pounded in her ears. Out here, so close to the Otherworld, the natural laws didn’t work quite the same way. At least that’s what she told herself as she went back for the lilac.
Her mother had taught her differently—taught her to trust her instincts as a witch—but Catherine was pressed for time and Glen Maye was the best place to get these ingredients.
Somewhere above her the moon shone brightly, but the thick clusters of trees blocked out most of the moonlight.
Behind her leaves stirred. Catherine swung her flashlight around, noting the way the shadows scuttled away from the light.
Nothing. There was absolutely nothing there. That didn’t reassure her. Some of her most frightening fears were formless.
She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.
Screw this.
She strode back to her bag and hung it over her shoulder. A little distance away her bike waited for her.
At least, it should’ve been waiting for her.
When Catherine approached the familiar boulder, the boulder she’d leaned the bike against every few weeks for the last year, it was gone. Vanished.
She drew the light to the ground around the rock. She even walked around the boulder just to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.
Behind her, a branch snapped.
Catherine swiveled around. The light jiggled as her hand shook. It seemed that the shadows pressed in on her.
Coming here was a bad idea.
“Oh yes, it was.”
A hand grabbed her hair and jerked her head back. She began to whisper a prayer. But she never finished. Sharp teeth sank into her neck. And then her words became shrieks.
***
I woke up to the sound of a scream. I propped myself up in bed and clicked on the light. Across the room Leanne sat up in bed, clutching her throat.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. I could smell her fear.
Her hand dropped from her neck. “Nothing,” Leanne murmured. “Sorry to wake you.” She repositioned herself and soon her breathing evened out, as if she hadn’t woken up screaming just moments before. Then again, she’d woken up from nightmares on and off for the past couple weeks, so maybe she was used to it by now. I sure wasn’t.
I glanced at my clock on the nightstand. It was one in the morning and I felt wide awake. Crappy vampire genes.
I lay back in bed and rubbed the rough wool of Andre’s blanket between my fingers. It no longer smelled like the sea and him, but it still brought me the same strange comfort it always had. I let my eyes close and my mind clear, trying to once again entice sleep.
I’d just nodded off when my phone began buzzing. Across the room Leanne moaned.
I cursed under my breath and threw the blankets off my bed. The clock indicated that it was almost three in the morning. I guess I had gotten some shuteye after all.
Grabbing my phone and slipping some shoes on, I stepped out into the hall. I read the caller ID. Hellhole.
Now it was my turn to moan. Not the Politia. Not now.
When I’d agreed to work with the Politia, the supernatural community’s police force, a month ago, I definitely hadn’t realized the time commitments. Still, late night calls were rare even for them.
“Yeah?” I answered the phone.
“Hi Gabrielle. This is Inspector Comfry. We’re calling you in on official business.”
I felt my eyebrows shoot up. “I’m sorry—right now?”
“Gabrielle, a girl was murdered tonight, and we think you can help us solve the case.”
***
An hour later I entered Castle Rushen, the Politia’s headquarters and another big effing castle located on the tiny Isle of Man. A group of inspectors loitered right inside the entrance.
The sound of the closing door drew their eyes to me. I tried not to wince at the hard looks I received—especially the one from Caleb’s father, Byron Jennings. Since I had joined the Politia, I had gotten used to the fact that not everyone here liked me, but it didn’t make seeing it any easier.
Inspector Magdalene Comfrey, my boss, pulled away from the group. By her looks, you would never know that almost ten years separated us in age. Small and lithe, her auburn colored bob framed a youthful face. But her sweet appearance was deceiving. She was tougher and scarier than most of the men in the room, probably to make up for her looks.
She didn’t even bother saying hi. Instead she took my hand and closed her eyes.