Death at First Sight (Spero Heights Book 2) (3 page)

Chapter Four

Chase Farms sat just outside the city limits of Spero Heights, at the end of a mile-long gravel drive that Dr. Delph was certain Selena had booby-trapped. His neck ached from hitting a deceptively innocent looking pothole, and he was suddenly thankful he’d taken the extra time and care to cover the bowl of salad sitting in the passenger seat of his 1970s Datsun 510.

The little yellow car did not venture out into the world often. Aside from the occasional oil change visit to a wererat mechanic on Monroe Street, Dr. Delph hadn’t put more than a hundred miles on the car since he’d bought it three years ago. Orpheus House was a community-owned facility, and his humble salary didn’t allow for much travel, let alone traveling in style. Though as he hit another pothole, updating the suspension did move up his priority list.

The driveway narrowed where it snaked around the trunk of a white oak, and Dr. Delph held his breath as the Datsun bounced over the tree roots sticking up through the dusty gravel. A low branch scraped at his windshield.

The woods were suffocating this time of year, thick with greenery and all the chirping, chattering things that greenery fed. The lush boughs overhead blotted out the sun, and Dr. Delph wondered how much worse his drive home was going to be. His distaste for the woods was bad enough during the day.

The farmhouse appeared over the next hill, planted in the middle of an acre-wide meadow. Three long barns sat off to the right, and a chorus of moos called out to greet Dr. Delph as he parked the Datsun next to Selena’s black Ford. He gathered the salad and loaf of French bread he’d brought before heading for the wraparound front porch.

“Back here,” Selena shouted, poking her head around the side of the house. A set of wooden stairs led up to the back deck.

Dr. Delph changed course and climbed up the steps to join her. The deck stretched as long as the width of the house. A large picnic table filled one side, and a pair of camping chairs and a smoking grill claimed the space in front of the screen door that led into the kitchen.

Selena stood in front of the grill, flipping steaks over the flames with a pair of tongs. The pits of her snug, white tee shirt were stained with sweat, and a bloody handprint was smeared up one thigh of her jeans, either from butchering a cow or helping one give birth, Dr. Delph guessed. She made a face at his beige suit jacket and then jerked her head toward the house. “We’re eatin’ inside so I can listen for the babies.”

“Very well.” Dr. Delph cradled the salad and bread in one arm so he could open the screened door. Inside, the air conditioning was working overtime. He assumed it was for the babies’ benefit. The one thing he and Selena had in common was their lack of self-pampering.

A rustic oak island divided the room, creating a buffer between the dining area and the kitchen, a galley styled walkthrough punctuated by vintage appliances. Dr. Delph was surprised they still functioned, though they likely didn’t have to often, not with Selena’s carnivorous diet. He was even more surprised when he caught a whiff of the apple pie and green bean casserole laid out on the island.

Dr. Delph had planned on a light dinner of bread and salad. He’d been a vegetarian for twenty years, a fact Selena loved to abuse by serving meat-heavy dishes on the rare occasion he visited her.

A gurgling noise drew his attention to a baby monitor on the countertop. Selena had set up the twins’ room on the main floor, across from her own bedroom down the long hall that branched off the back corner of the kitchen. Dr. Delph placed the bread and salad on the island next to the pie and casserole and tiptoed around the corner to peek in on the babies.

The small guest bedroom had been converted into a respectable nursery. Two matching cribs lined the side walls, both butting up against well-stocked changing tables, and a wide shelf sat under the window on the far wall, clustered with a handful of soft cover books and stuffed animals. A rocking chair was nestled in the corner near the door, next to a hamper and a diaper pail. The gurgling noise came again, and Dr. Delph stepped inside the room to investigate.

Emma was wide awake. Her little hands grasped at the air above her crib, toward a mobile of dangling paper butterflies. Dr. Delph wound the music box attached to the mobile, setting the butterflies in motion to the tune of Fur Elise. A gummy smile spread across Emma’s face and she gurgled again.

“There you are.” Selena leaned against the door frame and wiped her hands off on a kitchen towel. “Emma’s my little night owl,” she said with an affectionate grin.

Dr. Delph crept out of the room and followed Selena back down the hallway. “Full moon tonight. Will Ben be watching them for you?” he asked.

Selena nodded. “Good ol’ Ben. He gets around about as fast as an inchworm with that cane of his, but he’s got the best baby mojo, plus all those fancy, organic elixirs for everything from diaper rash to bath time.”

Ben Macaulay was half gnome and one of Spero Heights’ first residents. He ran Nightshade and Morning Glory, an occult shop near the Midnight District, the section of town that catered to the more nocturnal townsfolk.

Selena didn’t have many friends, but now that the twins depended on her, changes had to be made. As self-sufficient as she was, babies required a lot of attention and needed more than one pair of hands to raise them up right. Ben was just non-threatening enough to fit the bill.

As Dr. Delph and Selena came back into the kitchen, he noticed the apple pie was missing from the island. Selena caught his puzzled stare and snorted. “The pie’s for Ben. It’s the only payment he’ll accept for watching the twins. He’s a nice enough guy, but I’m not about to be indebted to anyone.”

“Of course not,” Dr. Delph said before thinking better of it.

Selena frowned and forked a steak onto her plate. “And just because I know how to bake a pie doesn’t mean I’m interested in playing Suzy Homemaker. Fix your own damn plate.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything else as he helped himself to a scoop of green bean casserole. After adding a hunk of bread and a generous salad, he joined Selena at the dining table.

The piece of furniture was humble yet sturdy. Decorating was not one of Selena’s fortes, so the weathered wood was set with nothing more than a woven table runner and three mason jar candles. Selena set her plate down in front of the seat facing the back door and went to fill a pitcher of water. She grabbed two glasses from a cupboard before returning to the table.

“Any news from Pierce since yesterday?” she asked as she took her seat and handed him a glass.

Dr. Delph cleared his throat and set his plate down next to Selena’s. “No, I’m afraid not.” He slipped off his suit jacket and placed it over the back of a chair. Then he undid the top button of his dress shirt and wrung his hands together in front of his chest. He was suddenly too warm, as it went anytime he came close to telling her what he’d been meaning to for days now.

“Sit down already,” Selena said around a mouthful of steak. She paused her chewing long enough to finger a red curl out of her face and cast him an annoyed scowl. “We’re not in your office, Delph. Cut the prim and proper shit, okay?”

“My visions have stopped,” he blurted. His hands grasped the back of his chair so tightly that his knuckles popped. “I haven’t seen anything new in a week now.”

Selena swallowed hard and put down her knife and fork. “Can’t you just pray or meditate or something?”

He shook his head. “I’ve tried everything.”

“Does Pierce know?” Selena asked. He hated the way she always called them by their last names. It felt so impersonal. What they’d been through made them closer than family, whether she liked it or not.

“I mentioned it briefly when we spoke three days ago, but he’s determined and stubborn—”

“I told you I had a bad feeling about this one.” Selena picked up her fork and pointed it at him before she dug into her steak again.

Dr. Delph finally sat down at the table. He sighed and his shoulders slumped. “You have bad feelings about all of my visions.”

“Yet no one ever listens.” She snorted and stuffed another bite of steak in her mouth. “Now Pierce is flying blind and without a chute, and we’re sitting ducks if anyone comes sniffing around, looking for the casualties Logan’s witchy bitch brought on us.” She paused to throw him another glare. “Which I still blame you for, by the way.”

Dr. Delph’s cheeks grew hot. “Zelda belongs here, maybe more than most. She’s saved the lives of at least a dozen of your kind—”

“Those mutts are
not
my kind.” Selena dropped her utensils in her plate and pushed her chair back from the table. “They’re not wolf-born. Most of them were turned later in life, by a drug lord who got too big for his britches.”

“A drug lord who fathered the twins,” Dr. Delph said evenly. “Do you consider Billy and Emma mutts too?”

Selena sighed. “Of course not. They were born wolves, and they’ll be raised wolves.”

Dr. Delph shook his head. “You act as though it’s a choice, whether a wolf is born or turned. You have to know that’s rarely the case—”

“Don’t preach to me about shit you know nothing about.” Selena looked away from him and ran a hand through her mess of curls. “Every damn one of those Raymore Clan castoffs that Zelda took in was an unnecessary liability. She had no right doing that without our consensus. You knew it just as well as I did. It was only a matter of time before it blew up in our faces.”

Dr. Delph was quiet a moment as he nibbled at his casserole. “The new leader of the clan seems a bit more respectable at least. Perhaps we’ll see fewer of their lot now.”

Selena snorted. “Don’t even
think
about turning this around and acting like it was a good thing. What we did—what
I
did—” She blew out a disheartened sigh and propped her elbow on the table so she could press her face into her hand.

It was hard for Dr. Delph not to feel a pinch of guilt. He had approved Zelda’s residency without consulting Selena or the mayor. It was out of character for him, but sometimes the Fates forced his hand. He didn’t regret the decision. Zelda was a skilled physician, not a psychologist like himself, and Spero Heights desperately needed one of those on hand. Especially one who wasn’t squeamish about working on supernatural creatures.

Dr. Delph’s guilt stemmed from the fact that Logan, Selena’s little brother, had fallen for the bleeding-hearted witch. The one person in the world that Selena loved absolutely, the one person that she would have moved heaven and earth for, was now alpha of Spero Heights’ newly formed pack of misfit wolves. All thanks to Zelda.

The situation had spurred from need rather than choice, and it had also called for several Raymore wolves and three witches to be
taken care of,
a burden that fell to Selena Chase.

Dr. Delph reached out to offer a comforting touch, but quickly withdrew it when Selena gave him a lethal look. “It’s the part you play. It’s what you’re good at,” he said gently. “I’d be more concerned if you enjoyed it.”

“I don’t need a pep talk, Delph.” She rolled her eyes. “I know what I signed up for when we put roots down here. But I have the pups to think about now—pups that
you
put in my charge. Try not to forget that when you and Pierce are gettin’ all extra ambitious about saving the world.”

Dr. Delph nodded and took a sip of water to clear the lump in his throat. The Fates had warned against keeping the pups, but they deserved a safe home just as much as anyone else in Spero Heights. Seeing the way their arrival had mended Selena’s fractured heart was just an added bonus, even though she was right about the extra care he and Graham needed to take. Orphaning the pups a second time would be a cruelty even the Fates couldn’t forgive.

Chapter Five

Lia woke with a shuddering gasp. A distant memory of a particularly violent carnival ride surfaced. Her head still ached, along with her face and shoulders now, and she smelled vomit. It was matted in her hair.

“Don’t worry. You didn’t get any on the new ride,” Saunders said. He stood at the end of the ratty sofa she was sprawled out on, fiddling with her left foot. She felt a pinch near her ankle and sat up, instantly regretting it when her head swam.

“What are you doing? Where are we?” She squinted around the dank room, taking in the stained carpet and uneven ceiling. A sink, refrigerator, and oven were crammed together in one corner, marked off by small patch of cracked linoleum. Not far from that, a rickety card table sat beneath a hanging light fixture.

The rest of the space was filled by the couch and a small television perched on top of a dresser in the far corner. A rusty air conditioner protruded from the only window, and it let out a rattling cough as it whirred to life. The noise was enough to make Lia wince, and the moldy, chemical-laced breeze it blew across the room made her throat tighten.

“Home sweet home,” Saunders said. He nodded at the window unit. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll splurge next summer and get a new fan for that thing.”

As loud as the air conditioner was, Lia could still hear ambulance sirens in the distance. “
Where
are we?” she asked again, dread twisting up her insides.

Saunders chewed his bottom lip as if considering whether or not to tell her. Then he hooked his thumbs in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “St. Louis. The SLCPD made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Lia’s head throbbed and her cheek felt swollen where it had hit the table before she’d passed out. The taste of acid intensified in the back of her throat and her eyes began to water. “St. Louis County’s population is over a million. Are you trying to kill me?”

“I know I’m asking a lot.” Saunders raised an eyebrow and pulled a bottle of pills out of his breast pocket. “But I got something to make up for it.”

Lia’s tongue went dry. Whatever he’d doped her with—likely Rohypnol—didn’t even come close to satisfying the itch in the back of her brain. But she wasn’t so desperate that she’d completely lost her mind.

“Fuck your pills,” she hissed, clutching the side of her head. “They don’t work on vegetables, which is exactly what I’ll be if you don’t get me out of here.”

“Come on now.” Saunders rattled the bottle. “This is the good stuff. I took it off the last dealer I busted.” He raised a hand at her horrified face. “Don’t worry. I turned in just enough to evidence so the lab rats could check it out. I’m telling you, this shit is better than heroin.”

“Will it raise the dead?” she snapped. Something cold scraped against her leg and she glanced down. Her new shoes were missing, and a bulky, black contraption was strapped to her ankle. “What the hell is that?”

Saunders sighed and set the bottle of pills down on the card table. “What’s it look like, smartass? I didn’t figure you’d be thrilled about this move, but I can’t have you pulling any stunts. If you behave yourself, we can talk about taking it off here in a few months. It’s state-of-the-art, so you can shower with it and everything,” he said, as if that would cheer her up. He dug something out of his pants pocket and tossed it on the couch beside her.

Lia picked up the device with a frown. “Is this a phone?” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen one, but she was sure it was supposed to have numbered buttons.

“Mmhmm.” Saunders folded his arms. “It’s locked, so you can’t call out. But I can call you.”

“Are we that good of friends now?” It suddenly occurred to Lia that they’d only had one conversation that had lasted longer than this one. That was before she’d known what an asshat he was.

You see the bad guys, tell me all about it, and I’ll go out and catch them.
He’d baby-talked her back then. Before she’d tried to make a run for it.
In return, I’ll let you live here for free and bring you food, and I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.

Her face had been on the evening news that night, painting her as a dangerous asylum escapee who had killed a doctor. Of course, they left off the part about how the doctor had tried to kill
her
first.

Lia dropped the phone to the couch so she could clutch her head again. “Why do you need to call me? The visions only come in the morning. There won’t be a round two in the afternoon, no matter how many people croak out there.”

Saunders stepped back into the kitchen and emptied the bottle of pills in his hand. Then he fetched a glass off a shelf and filled it with water from the tap before returning. “Take the pills. This attitude of yours is rubbing me wrong. Tomorrow’s my first day on the job, and I don’t want us starting off on the wrong foot.”

When he stopped in front of the couch, Lia found herself eye-level with the pistol at his hip. It was no accident. Saunders knew how to intimidate her without saying a word. She took the pills and tossed them in her mouth before grabbing the glass of water from him.

He waited for her to hand the glass back before he went on. “I’ll have to work my way up the food chain here. The hours are going to be long at first, and I won’t have time to visit you every day.”

Lia’s chest tightened. As much as she hated Saunders, he was the only person she’d had contact with for the past ten years. She couldn’t decide which she hated more—the idea of seeing him every day, or the idea of seeing no one at all. Then a second thought worked its way to the top.

“How am I supposed to get my pills?” she choked out.

Saunders clicked his tongue. “Just who do you think you’re talking to? I got you covered, girly.”

He took a few steps back, toward the mouth of a narrow hallway, and opened a linen closet door. Three small safes were stacked across the top shelf. “Got these puppies on sale when the old roach motel on the strip went out of business. So when I call in the morning, after you give me your nightmare rundown, I’ll give you a code for one so you can get your daily meds.” Saunders still referred to her visions as nightmares. Lia had stopped correcting him. It wasn’t worth the effort.

Her shoulders shook in a violent shiver and her eyes felt heavy. The drugs were kicking in, dulling the alarms ringing in her head. “I might not be able to pull myself off the floor in the morning, let alone answer your weird, button-less phone or open a safe. You have no idea how badly you’ve screwed me with this move,” she slurred.

Saunders gave her a cruel grin. “Oh, you’ll answer when I call. And you’ll tell me what I want to know, or I’ll let you rot in here.” He glanced around the apartment. “I bought this building. Got it cheap, since it’s in a rough neighborhood and they had to evacuate it a few months back due to a rat infestation.”

Lia cringed and covered her mouth, suppressing a gag.

“Don’t make faces now. It’s been fumigated.” Saunders scoffed. “You really think I’d put you up in a place crawling with rats? What kind of monster do you take me for?”

The kind that kidnaps and exploits a traumatized teen.
Only she wasn’t a teen anymore. She was pushing thirty. So much of her youth had been wasted on Garrett Saunders and his climb up the ladder of authority. And Lia couldn’t help but feel guilty for being his safety net, no matter how unwilling she’d been.

Saunders pulled out a wad of keys and made his way toward the door. “It’ll be some time before I rent any of the other apartments out. I have some renovations planned for the first floor—but you’re six up, so you’ll have some time to get a handle on yourself. Make all the noise you want,” he added with a sneer.

He slipped a key in the deadbolt and cracked the door open, which Lia then realized was keyed on both sides. He wasn’t even trying to pretend that she wasn’t his prisoner anymore.

Saunders nodded at the kitchen. “The fridge is fully stocked, and there’s ice cream in the freezer. Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya.” He winked at her before stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind him.

The tumbler in the deadbolt clicked into place. Lia listened to Saunders’ whistling fade as he made his way down the hall, then she heaved out a hopeless sob and collapsed on the couch.

She lay there for what seemed like hours, feeling helpless and pathetic. Ambulance sirens and screeching tires became white noise, along with the droning air conditioner and a drip in the kitchen sink.

As the sky began to fade outside, Lia’s heart rate hiked up a notch. She hadn’t been lying to Saunders. There was a definite chance that she wouldn’t survive the next morning. Being cooped up inside for ten years had given her an unhealthy amount of time in front of the television, and on one of the four channels she received, she remembered a news piece about St. Louis County.

The journalist had been focused on heroin, but the staggering number that had caught Lia’s attention was the twenty-five average deaths that occurred on a daily basis. It was the one time she considered herself lucky and thankful for Saunders and his podunk parish.

She didn’t feel so lucky anymore. Tears wet her cheeks, and the lump in her throat that had been there since she’d awakened in the shitty apartment made it hard for her to swallow back her sobs. Her heartbeat grew more persistent, until it felt like the thing was trying to find a way out of her chest.

A door slammed in the hallway, and Lia gasped. She rubbed her hands over her face, trying to scrub away the tears and dried vomit. Imminent death or not, she refused to let Saunders see what he’d reduced her to.

She waited for the sound of heavy boots and keys outside her door, but all she could make out was a soft scraping noise, as if something was being dragged down the hall. Another door slammed, this one closer than the last.

Lia almost called out, annoyed that Saunders couldn’t leave her in peace. He was probably waiting to see what she would do. Testing her to see how she would react when his remodeling project reached her floor. He couldn’t be bothered to bring her meds every day, but he had time to screw off in the apartment next to hers? Anger boiled in her stomach.

Then a muffled, feminine cough seeped through the thin wall between the apartments.