A Lying Witch Book Two Read online

  All characters in this publication are fictitious, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  A Lying Witch

  Book Two

  Copyright © 2016 Odette C Bell

  Cover art stock photos licensed from Depositphotos.

  www.odettecbell.com

  A Lying Witch

  Book Two

  It’s time for hearts to bleed. And the first heart on the butcher’s block? Chi’s.

  You’d think she’d have time to rest after her last break-neck adventure. Wrong. Chi is dragged into the case of Fagen. Fagen is collecting hearts - and no, not the romantic kind.

  When a string of grisly crimes spreads through the city, Chi is pulled in to help. But she’s the one who’ll need help when she becomes number one on Fagen’s wish list. He doesn’t send her flowers to win her heart. Nope, he sends a hit team.

  Running for her life, she’s thrust further into Max’s accommodating embrace. But there’s a problem there, too. Max has a secret - one that spans centuries, and one he’ll do anything to hide.

  Chapter 1

  You’d think I’d have some time to relax after almost dying at the hands of the terrifying Farley.

  You’d be wrong. Oh so wrong.

  Max would not let me rest.

  Okay, so he didn’t drag me down to the police station to solve any more murders, but he was pushing me to develop my abilities as a seer.

  Me? I was pushing to find out exactly what I was.

  It had been several weeks, and you could say I was adjusting, but I was still drowning in a river of questions.

  I was walking from one side of my room to the other, a pen in my hand as I tapped it rhythmically against my lips.

  There was one good thing about being a fake fortune teller – one ability I’d been able to transfer over to my new terrifying life as a real clairvoyant – my ability to research.

  Which I’d been doing non-stop. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find anything on Max. Honestly, all I had was a name and a magical subspecies.

  My curiosity had been piqued ever since that scribbled half-sentence I’d found in one of grandma’s journals.

  Watch out for Max, he isn’t what….

  Though my grandmother had books on magic, there was so much to learn. Oh so freaking much to learn.

  I was swamped. And it wasn’t exactly as if Max was helping. Okay, he was downstairs cooking breakfast, but pancakes aside, I needed a way out.

  Because, oh yes, I was still trying to escape. Just not in the same way. As soon as Max turned his back, I didn’t take the opportunity to leg it out the front door. Nope. I wasn’t trying to escape Max; there was no point. He could keep me safe. No, what I was trying to escape was the curse.

  According to everything my grandmother had written, there was no way to break the curse. It would continue to exist as long as the female line of the McLanes existed.

  Well, I wasn’t satisfied with that conclusion. The tiger in me wouldn’t let it stand. There was a way to break every rule out there, and this so-called permanent curse would be just the same.

  I continued to pace the room, thinking of new ways to investigate Max and the curse.

  I didn’t get the opportunity to continue. Max’s pleasant, resonant brogue rumbled up from the first floor. “Breakfast is ready.”

  I grinned to myself. Hey, maybe Max had a secret, but he was also a hell of a cook. And he was a pretty good magical bodyguard, too.

  “Coming,” I called out. I abandoned the pen on my bed, sprinted over to the door, thrust it open, and climbed down the stairs.

  Max, unfortunately, was not wearing an apron. But, fortunately, he’d arrayed a fantastic looking breakfast out on the rustic-style table that sat in front of the patio doors.

  The paper was folded up neatly in the middle of the table, an equally neat folded up napkin sitting on top of it.

  I discarded the napkin to the side, grabbed up the paper, and started to read as I shoveled pancakes into my mouth.

  Max snorted. It was that particular derisive move he was so damn fond of. A second later, he’d be crossing his arms. I looked up from the paper out of the corner of my eye, waiting. You bet you – a second later, he crossed his arms.

  “The napkin is there to wipe your mouth.”

  “I know what a napkin is. I’m also coordinated enough not to put the food on my mouth, but in it.”

  “Coordinated, ha?” He snorted.

  I just poked my tongue out, kept it out, delivered a payload of pancakes onto it, then chewed loudly.

  This only elicited another snort.

  Stretching, I got back to the paper. It was the local rag, and Max kept on insisting I learn more about this city considering I was meant to protect it with my magical clairvoyant powers.

  Rather than actually read the news, I turned to the cartoon section. I quickly began laughing – I was easily amused.

  “Really?” Max said as he sat down, somehow keeping his arms crossed as he did, almost as if they were strapped to his chest like a strait jacket. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d find that funny.”

  I looked up. “What? You don’t like cartoons? I’ll admit, these aren’t the best, but they’ll do.”

  He looked at me. In fact, he did that thing – that thing where his eyes looked like they were trying to bore through my skull.

  Reluctantly, I put my fork down. “Okay, what?”

  “Turn to the front page.”

  “Do I have to?”

  He shot me the kind of judgmental look a reality TV host would be proud of. “Aye, you do.”

  I groaned but complied. I closed the paper and turned it over.

  Then I froze.

  Splashed across the front page was a massive headline: King of Hearts Strikes Again.

  There was a picture of police tape flickering in the wind, several police officers, and the unmistakable black, thick plastic of a body bag.

  I paled. Heck, maybe my face fell off, because I lost all awareness of where I was. I was sucked in by the story. I crammed my face against the paper as I read.

  Another dead body had been found with its chest cavity carved up and the heart missing.

  That made it three in the past week. The papers were calling it a spree, people were scared, and the police had put out a warning.

  “My god,” I said through a stuttering breath as I kept my hand clamped hard over my mouth. “That’s horrible.”

  Max looked at me evenly, that judgmental look never too far from his gaze. Except, I had to be honest – it was softening. Maybe even he wasn’t aware of it, but the more time Max spent with me, the less he appeared to hate me. Still, that didn’t stop him from leaning back and crossing his arms. “It’s also magical,” he commented.

  I’d just let my hand drop, and I’d been about to shovel a payload of pancakes into my gob. I stopped. Slowly, as if it were the hardest thing I’d ever do, I let my gaze dart up, and I looked at him. “Magical?” I choked over the word.

  With his arms still crossed so firmly in front of him, he nodded.

  A truly complex swirl of emotions shifted through me as I realized just what he was saying.

  Sure, it had been a whole week since that incident with Farley, but you couldn’t tell my body that. It was still as fresh and visceral as if Farley had chased me through that forest only this morning.

  Slowly, I put the fork down, pushed my plate back, folded the paper, and turned my full attention to Max. “How do you know it’s magical?”

  Maybe Max would assume my question was offensive. Maybe he thought I was seconds from fighting him on this, seconds from turning my back on my so-called responsibility. I wasn’t. B
ecause, like it or not, things were slowly changing in my head. The incident with Farley had affected me in ways I could barely appreciate. But there was one way I understood completely: I wanted revenge. No, that didn’t mean I wanted to march into whatever high-security prison Farley had been remanded into. I didn’t want to letter bomb his parents, either. Nope, I wanted to take down Fagan – his entire operation. Everyone who’d supported Farley, everyone who’d made those heinous crimes possible. They had to pay. It wasn’t because a sense of justice was finally welling in my heart. I hadn’t turned into a Detective Coulson here. I’d just turned into a tiger. And the tiger never backed down.

  I couldn’t get the image of Farley’s first victim out of my head. An impression of her, though faint, seemed seared into my memory forevermore.

  Max was looking at me. I mean really looking at me. Like he was trying to pare back my flesh, get inside my brain, and figure out what I was thinking.

  Though I usually sneered at him when he was acting so obviously judgmental, this time, I didn’t. This time, I simply tipped my head back, crossed my arms, and looked right at him. “Well?” I demanded when he didn’t answer. “How do we know this is a magical crime?” My voice was remarkably even. I had, after all, had a career of controlling my reactions. And now it was starting to pay off.

  Max finally lost that derisive gaze and shrugged. It could not be mistaken for an easy move. It was tight as his shoulders rose high against his ears. “Because of what was taken from the crime scene,” he answered. For the first time ever, Max’s voice dropped low. Not in warning, not because he was trying to menace me. Nope, he almost sounded scared.

  This sent a truly violent kick of emotion reverberating through my gut. I had to clench my teeth hard not to fidget forward and slam a hand over my stomach.

  “What do you mean?” Though I’d been managing to control my reaction up until that point, I lost my nerve. “What was taken from the crime scene? Was the murderer motivated by theft?”

  Max tipped his head back and stared at me evenly. Again it was obvious he was waiting to gauge my reaction. “You could say that,” he answered after a quiet pause. There was something truly eerie about that pause. My stomach started to turn somersaults, and I instantly regretted having shoveled so many pancakes into my gob with such alacrity.

  Max wasn’t exactly forthcoming. And I didn’t know why. Maybe he just wanted me to push, or maybe he was genuinely frightened himself. I realized his indecision was providing me with an opportunity. I could drop this and walk away. Or? Or I could push, find out just what heinous crime was making Max turn so pale, and then… then I could what? Use my crazy abilities to help track the killer down?

  Max was watching me. Of course, Max was watching me. And of course, he was making absolutely no attempt to hide his judgmental stare. So this was a test, ha?

  One more chance to turn back….

  I found myself shaking my head at my own thought. Turn back? As if that was possible. This was my new life now, wasn’t it?

  So I shoved forward. “Max, just bloody well tell me what was stolen from the crime scene already.”

  Slowly, he smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile, and it didn’t exactly indicate satisfaction, either. Nope, just pride.

  I had half a second to appreciate just how warm and tingly it felt when a man like Max was proud of you. Then he opened his mouth, and my world came crashing down.

  “Victims’ hearts,” he answered.

  I won’t tell you what my stomach did. I won’t tell you how cold my blood became. I won’t tell you how much fear pulsed through my heart and tore along each vertebra. Because, to be honest, the only thing I could think about was Farley as he pushed towards me, that sharp, steel knife glinting in the light of the moon.

  Max didn’t let his gaze drop from mine. Sure, it was only a look, and yet, somehow, his stare felt like a welcome pair of hands propping me up. Without them? I would have melted into a puddle of tears.

  I clenched my teeth. I took several forced breaths until I found the strength to speak. “Is,” I frowned, “… is it Fagan? But you said we had time. You said he’d be forced underground after we took Farley down.”

  Max dropped my gaze. “I should have been right, but it looks as if Fagan has friends – strong friends. And to answer your first question,” he looked right at me, “yeah, it’s likely him.”

  I felt like someone had locked a hand on my chest and was trying to push me through the center of the Earth. “What… what happens now?”

  Investigating the last murder had almost killed me. Literally. It had proved how underequipped I was to face this world.

  Again I was aware of the fact that Max was watching me so intently, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the force of his gaze set my hair alight.

  I swallowed, then swallowed again before finally crossing my arms so tightly in front of my chest, it was like I was trying to push them through my torso.

  “Now,” he answered, “we wait.”

  I frowned. “Wait for what?” There was a nervous quality to my tone. My voice shook, and there was precious little I could do to control it.

  “We wait for the police to request our assistance.”

  I blinked, rapidly. So rapidly it was a wonder steam didn’t issue out of my eyeballs. “We have to wait for the police to request our assistance? Can’t we just… I don’t know, investigate this on our own?”

  Slowly, he arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have picked you for someone to be gung-ho, especially around responsibility,” he added in a darker tone.

  It would have been seriously easy to catch hold of that bait. But I was done letting Max fish for my reactions. Instead, keeping my arms crossed so tightly I was mirroring his own body language, I shrugged. “I guess that’s because you don’t know me very well, do you, Max?”

  As comebacks went, it wasn’t brilliant, but at least it got the desired reaction. He considered my point with a shrug. “Maybe. Or maybe I know you better than you know yourself,” he answered quietly in that particular tone he always used when he pointed out that he was miles ahead when it came to this magical world, while I knew precious little.

  At the same time, I swear his shadow became just a little larger, just a little more real.

  I surprised myself by not reacting to his words. Heck, it was a surprise I wasn’t reacting more to the news of people’s hearts being stolen. Well, I was reacting, on the inside. I was just using all my training as a fake fortuneteller not to allow that reaction to be seen. Plus, I was finally drawing on my natural anger and tenacity. My mother would be proud. No, I had not completely come to terms with this magical world, and god knows I would never come to terms with asshole murderers stealing people’s hearts. I was, however, measuring my fear for now.

  “So that’s it, ha? We just wait around until Detective Coulson comes knocking on the door asking for my help?”

  Again Max narrowed his eyes, and again it was perfectly clear that he was trying to gauge my reaction. I made it as hard as I possibly could for him as I kept my expression deadly even.

  “Who said we’d be waiting?” he answered after a pause.

  I fought against the strong urge to lash out and smack Max for being a sanctimonious little prick. He seemed to delight in giving me information in a piecemeal fashion so I never truly knew where I stood.

  Again, somehow, I managed to control my reaction. “What exactly do you have planned, fairy?”

  “Though we cannot investigate this matter directly, there is nothing stopping us from taking a closer look at the underworld,” he answered. As he did, he tilted his head low. Max had this insane ability to look like a wolf when he wanted. No, that didn’t mean that he suddenly grew furry ears and some fiendishly sharp teeth. It was the way he could get this predatory spark in his eyes. This specific glint that told you you were very much not in control and you were playing into his hands. Maybe it was the kind of look that told me I shouldn’t trust this Scottish fairy,
and that I should rather run a mile. Problem was, I couldn’t trust that suspicion. Even after my grandmother’s half warning, a part of me… trusted Max. Almost trusted him completely. No, I wasn’t about to give the guy a blank check to do whatever he pleased – it was super clear he still had a bucketload of secrets, and I could bet some of them were terrifying indeed. It was just that… my heart seemed connected to him. And no matter what crossed between us, it promised me that in the end, it would all be worthwhile.

  I wasn’t usually a sappy girl. I liked to think I was completely in control of my emotional reactions. The only way my heart would ever melt was if I heated it up and literally burnt through the muscle.

  But with Max… with Max it was different. With Max I felt…. I didn’t get the chance to finish that particular sappy thought.

  Max suddenly rose.

  He nodded pointedly at the pancakes. “Maybe it was a mistake to make those,” he muttered to himself.

  I frowned, scandalized as I reached forward, locked a hand on the pancakes, and clutched at them protectively. “Why? What’s wrong with them? You can’t have them,” I added.

  This elicited one of Max’s perfect snorts. There was no other way to refer to them. Max managed to make disdain look weirdly attractive. Now was no different. Though his nostrils literally rattled, my cheeks still reddened at his direct attention.

  “I’m not going to take your pancakes off you, and there’s nothing wrong with them. I just realized you’re probably going to throw them all up, though.”

  Again, I looked scandalized. “What did you put in them?”

  “Sugar, eggs, flour, cinnamon. Point is, I don’t see you getting through today without chucking your guts up.”

  It was a particularly unsavory image, and I screwed up my face in disgust.

  Then I focused on what he was actually saying.

  I frowned, the move cutting hard across my cheeks. “What do you mean? Just where are we going, and what are we doing?”

  He smiled. It was one of those uniquely Max-like smiles. Half of it was charming, half of it reassured your mind that the dashing Scotsman had your best interests at heart. The rest? The rest told you to get the hell out while you still could.